The Dark Side of Love
by crapwriting
Summary: Ron has become a hero, something is wrong with Harry, and Draco Malfoy is giving Hermione Granger lessons in something she doesn't know all about. How will the world right itself from this one? (DHr, with references to HHr and RHr)[COMPLETE]
1. In the Beginning, there were books

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. I did not create them, I am only taking advantage of pre-established fictional characters in order to write a decent story.

___

She sighed, closing the Standard Book of Spells, grade 7. She knew them all by heart now. And she wanted more. She still felt unequipped as a witch.   
  
Her gaze strayed again to the Restricted Section. It would be easy enough...   
  
But no, she really shouldn't. What would Harry and Ron think if they knew she was reading up on dark magic?   
  
She smiled, bitterly. Like they would really care. Who were they to talk about breaking the rules? And would they really stop to think about her if they wanted to learn about something illegal?   
  
She gave a half-hearted laugh. Like they ever wanted to learn anything aside from Quidditch.   
  
****   
  
Hours later, Hermione was curled up as comfortably as she could be on the cold stone floors of the Restricted Section, tucked just far enough behind some shelves to be hidden from the aisle leading into it.   
  
She had already memorized half of _Spells for Power_ and had just begun taking notes on _An Idiots Guide to Dark Magic_. She paused, thoughtfully nibbling on the end of her quill. These really weren't so bad. What, exactly, was the problem? What was the Ministry's problem?   
  
She sighed and rubbed her eyes. It was probably well past curfew, and now was not the time to begin questioning everything she had been taught since her entry into the wizarding world.   
  
After carefully replacing the books surrounding her hiding spot and tucking her notes and quill into her bag, she headed down the aisle towards the red rope, wand ready.   
  
She heard the footsteps around the corner too late. Before she could retreat, Draco Malfoy rounded the corner.

  
"Well well well. What, may I ask, is little miss mudblood doing in the Restricted Section at two o'clock in the morning?"   
  
Her stomach churned and her eyes flashed as her mind raced across all of the spells she had learned tonight. It would be so easy...   
  
She smiled. "Why... Draco Malfoy! Just the wizard I wanted to see." 

***   
Minutes later, Hermione was whispering a rushed "Flibbergibbish" to a drowsy Fat Lady and Draco Malfoy was planted in the middle of the Restricted Section, muttering a nonstop, in detail explanation of every rule-breaking he had ever committed.   
  
She knew his punishment would come soon. She had escaped the library just before she heard Filch reach it.   
  
She smiled as she slumped against the portrait hole, safely inside the Gryffindor common room. Ah, revenge was sweet.   
  
The sensation at the back of her mind that perhaps it hadn't been wise to use the TattleTale Curse she had just learned on Draco nagged her slightly. She brushed it away, knowing that there was nothing permanently damaging about the curse. She wondered again why it was considered "dark" magic. Why was there even a difference? Magic was magic, right?   
  
"Hermione?"   
  
Ah, blast that voice, filled with fake concern. With a heavy sigh, she turned to Harry, who was quite awake on the couch.   
  
"Oh, hey. What are you doing up?"   
  
"Nightmare. What were you doing out?"   
  
She paused, realizing too late that this would make any excuse seem implausible.   
  
"Just studying. I fell asleep in the invisibility section. I'm still a little disoriented."   
  
That was almost true. She had been almost invisible in the Restricted Section, she was tired and her little Malfoy-hexing had made her a bit disoriented.   
  
Harry gazed at her for a moment, then "...You seemed rushed."   
  
"You would be, too, if you were out hours after curfew." She groaned inwardly. Her voice had been far too harsh. Why did she have to be such a lousy liar?   
  
Since when had she needed to lie to Harry?   
  
Since when had she needed to use dark magic on Malfoy? After all, a simple slap seemed to suffice.   
  
She sighed, pulling herself up from the floor. Harry's silence was making her very uncomfortable. She didn't want to apologize, though. Why should she?   
  
"I'm going to bed. See you at breakfast."   
  
It took several minutes for Harry to nod in response, and by then she had already mounted the steps to her dormitory. 

***

Ron had gotten to Harry first.

When he had come in, late as usual, Harry was sitting placidly by the fire.

"Harry?"

"Mmph."

Shaking his head at his friend's brilliant articulation, he mounted the steps to the dormitory and slung Harry's cloak back into his chest. His nighttime rendez vous' had been made so much easier with that cloak.

He couldn't remember why he hadn't used it all along. Something nagged at the back of his mind, like a forgotten dream or the fragment of an interrupted thought, but he couldn't place it.

Briefly, he considered going down to retrieve Harry. He doubted that Harry knew how late it was.

On second thought, Ron's bed looked awfully inviting. And Harry was a big boy; he could take care of himself.

Attempting to ignore the part of his mind that worried about his friend's recent behavior, Ron climbed into bed and went to sleep.  
  
***   
  
Draco Malfoy had never been so angry.   
  
He had, of course, told Dumbledore right away who had performed the curse on him. The following discussion consisted of a series of "Are you sure?"s and "I think perhaps you may have been dreaming"s.   
  
His embarrassing confession had only compounded the Headmaster's distrust. His tales of verbal and magical battles between himself and the trio and his assistance with every one of Lucius' plots to have Dumbledore removed did not help his case in the least.   
  
Dumbledore did not seem angry, however. In the end, he smiled, his eyes twinkling, and ushered Draco out of his office with a lemon drop in hand.   
  
"Don't worry, Mr. Malfoy. I'll speak to Miss Granger and we'll shortly have this all straightened out."   
  
***   
Thank god she had taken notes.   
  
With the next morning's hubbub over what had happened to Draco the night before, there was no hope of making it back to the Restricted Section anytime soon.   
  
Throughout a boring Transfiguration lesson on a spell she had mastered last year, she ran the spells she had memorized through her head, to make sure they were still there.   
  
As if she would forget. As if she _could_ forget.   
  
"Miss Granger!"   
  
Hermione snapped out of her thoughts. McGonagall's voice never failed to ground her in reality.   
  
"Um..Yes Professor?"   
  
Well, almost never.   
  
McGonagall did not look pleased. She cleared her throat, pointed to the door and glared at Hermione.   
  
"As I stated before, the Headmaster requests your presence in his office."   
  
Hermione's face was a whole new shade of red as she rose from her seat and stumbled down the aisle, towards the door.   
  
This would not be pleasant.   
  
***

Hermione's retreating figure caught Harry's eye. He wondered absently why she was leaving in the middle of what he had always thought was her favorite class. 

Confused, he turned to Ron.

Following a few incessant whispers, Ron sighed and scribbled his reply to Harry's questions.

__

If you weren't being such an incredible dolt and you had any semblance of an idea about what is going on in your surroundings, you might have noticed that McGonagall sent her to Dumbledore's office.

Harry frowned at the note, then at Ron (who was blatantly ignoring his gaze), then finally at McGonagall. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Harry's thoughts slipped once again to his daydreams.

***   
"Miss Granger! I'm so pleased to see you. Lemon drop?"   
  
Hermione smiled, politely refusing Dumbledore's Candy of the Week.   
  
Sobering quickly, the Headmaster motioned Hermione to a chair facing him. "I'm afraid I've summoned you here to face some rather serious charges."   
  
Hermione tried to continue breathing evenly and nodded. "I've heard the rumors, sir."   
  
"May I ask you for your version of last nights events?"   
  
Hermione slowly nodded. With a deep breath, she began the most difficult task of her life. She was about to lie to the Headmaster.   
  
"You see, sir... I was studying in the invisibility section last night, to avoid any interruptions, and I'm afraid I fell asleep in the middle of some particularly difficult History of Magic reading." At this, she paused, closing her eyes. It was easier to lie with her eyes closed. That way it seemed like a daydream. Or something.   
  
This invisibility section excuse was a really great idea.   
  
She opened her eyes.   
  
"When I woke up, it was quite late and I heard noises coming from the Restricted Section. I went to check it out and I found Draco Malfoy. He had a few insults for me, as usual… I decided to leave, realizing it was after curfew, and wanting to avoid any confrontations. I saw him reach for his wand, so I put a full-body bind on him to avoid another incident with my teeth..."   
  
At this, she gave him a weak smile and wondered how plausible this really was.   
  
"When I realized how much trouble I'd be in, I ran. I'm sorry sir... I know I broke several rules last night and I hope you can forgive me. " She paused, trying her best to remain calm. "But I had absolutely nothing to do with - with whatever it is they're all saying I did. I only performed Petrificus Totalus."   
  
And then; "Is it true that he's accusing me of committing dark magic?"   
  
This was much easier than it should have been.   
  
Dumbledore remained quiet for many minutes as he regarded Hermione. Finally, he sighed. "Yes, Miss Granger, I'm afraid that is the case we're dealing with. Thank you for your time. I'll let you return to your classes now. If I have any more questions, I trust you'll be willing to answer them?"   
  
Hermione nodded and smiled weakly before standing and exiting the Headmaster's office. The gargoyle closed behind her and she sighed, almost relieved.   
  
There was no turning back now.

**

Dumbledore removed his spectacles and rubbed his tired eyes, now completely devoid of twinkle.

Something was very wrong here. 

If Hermione hadn't performed the curse on Draco, then who had? She admitted to Petrificus Totalus, which would have made him vulnerable for attack, but it certainly didn't make him blind. There was no evidence that a memory charm had been used on him recently. Moreover, Draco was quite convinced that she had used the Tattletale Curse. He even quoted the words she had spoken.

What if Hermione Granger was lying? He knew it wasn't impossible, although it was entirely unlikely. And as much as Dumbledore disliked Lucius, he had never allowed this to affect his opinion of Draco before. He didn't want to believe that Draco was lying… But… Hermione Granger? Performing the Tattletale Curse? 

Furthermore, what had Draco Malfoy been doing in the Restricted Section at two o'clock in the morning? Part of him wished he had left the curse on until Draco had confessed to that bit of information. He had no doubt now that it would have proven useful.

He sighed, fingering the vial of Veritaserum Professor Snape had given him at breakfast that morning. He had never resorted to such…drastic measures concerning his students, although the Ministry certainly sanctioned them in the investigation of dark magic, especially in times like these. He was still unwilling to use it on a student.

Nevertheless, dark magic was dark magic. No matter how…insignificant…it seemed. Some one had still interfered with Draco Malfoy's free will. He certainly wouldn't have confessed to every crime he had committed on his own.

The irony of what he was considering suddenly struck Albus. He set the Veritaserum on his desk. He wasn't going to play the role of a hypocrite. He smiled, replacing his spectacles. Perhaps the truth would reveal itself in time.

**

Ron ate quickly and quietly at lunch. There wasn't much point in conversation with either the incompetent daydreaming fool that Harry had lately become or the withdrawn distant stranger that Hermione now embodied.

He wondered if perhaps he should owl Sirius about Harry. Something was definitely wrong here. All Harry cared about was Quidditch. He couldn't focus on anything else. But even at practice he didn't seem focused. It was as if he was constantly half-asleep.

Come to think of it, Ron couldn't honestly say whether or not Harry had slept in the past few weeks. Ron's entire term had consisted of late nights thus far, yet Harry was always awake, at the common room fire, when Ron came in.

He would be there most mornings, as well.

Frustrated cursing brought Ron's attention to the table. Hermione had spilled pumpkin juice down her front.

He didn't think he had ever heard her utter a curse word before.

She was changing too. He couldn't even pinpoint when it had started… Sometime in fifth year, most likely. God, that had been an awful year for their friendship. He hadn't really noticed her distance until the end of the following summer, though. It was then that he noted the lack of correspondence with her cute little Granger seal. It was during their shared Diagon Alley trip that he noticed how utterly… bored… she seemed. 

He had, at the time, chalked it up to nerves about the upcoming year, to his and Harry's constant Quidditch talk, to anything but the thought that she was bored with them… or with her life, for that matter.

He watched her solemnly now, as she gathered her books, nodded her goodbye and strolled from the Great Hall. If only he had said something sooner.

It seemed as if the rest of the students were following Hermione's cue… with the exception of one. Sighing heavily, he nudged The-Boy-Who-Never-Paid-Attention. He didn't want to be late to Herbology again.

**

The rest of Hermione's classes moved by very slowly. As fervently as she took notes, the events of the last day refused to leave her. By dinnertime, she was convinced that there had been a hole in every lie she'd told Dumbledore. Her lips twitched into what was almost a smile. She was more upset about holes in her lies than in the fact she had lied to the Headmaster. How ridiculous.

The rumors were growing worse – she had turned Draco's ears inside out – she had used the imperious on him and forced him to do some utterly unspeakable things… The most ludicrous one she'd heard yet was that she had turned Draco's feet into hamsters and forced him to tap-dance… She had a feeling she knew a few sixth years responsible for that one.

She had yet to see Draco.

That was the one comfort the day brought. She really wasn't sure how she could defend herself against him. He, for one, knew she was lying. 

"Done ruining my life, you filthy mudblood?"

How awkward.

Slowly, Hermione turned around to face the sneering Draco as a few frightened first years rushed by in the otherwise empty hall. Great. Perfect chance for him to kill me.

Oh, but he can't, not really. I've got so many powerful spells up my sleeve it isn't even funny. She smiled. "Why Draco, I hear you've been spreading the most awful lies about me. Why on earth would I turn your ears inside out?"

She had never seen him so shocked. Catching him off-guard was definite proof of some sort of imbalance in the universe. 

"Since when have you taken to calling me Draco, Granger?"

Now it was Hermione's turn to be shocked. When [I]_had_[/I] she started calling him Draco? There was definitely something wrong with the world. Perhaps it was spinning backwards now. Determined to keep what remained of her cool, she ignored his question. "Why are you spreading such terrible rumors about me?"

Hell, she might as well keep her story the same across the board.

Draco looked as if he was torn between slapping her and vomiting. Thankfully, he did neither. "Granger, I don't want to play games. What you pulled was completely uncalled for and you'll certainly be repaid for it… many times over." He grinned. "But what I really want to know is when a little mudblood like yourself decided to learn some dark magic."

Part of her wanted to slap him. Part of her wished this conversation – no, this day – had never happened. 

And part of her wanted to tell him everything. 

After all, he'd understand so much more than Harry and Ron. She was sure he'd understand about a thirst for knowledge of the dark arts. And he probably knew so much already – so much that he could teach her.

"Granger! Malfoy! What reasons do you have to loiter in the hallways? Get to your dormitories!" 

At McGonagall's reprimand, Hermione was brought back to the present. She mumbled a hurried apology and rushed down the hallway towards Gryffindor Tower. She never looked back to see a very perplexed and irritated Draco Malfoy watching her.

The world was definitely spinning backwards.


	2. Remembering and Forgetting

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. I did not create them, I am only taking advantage of pre-established fictional characters in order to write a decent story.

___

Draco finally turned towards the Sytherin dungeons, mainly to please Professor McGonnagal. He could have stood there, in the chamber off of the Entrance Hall, for the rest of the night. He had never been so confused.

At first, after the Tattletale incident, he had assumed that there was some Polyjuice Potion involved or some other sort of disguise in place. He had never believed that Hermione Granger had actually been involved. 

Until now.

Now, Draco reflected on the Quidditch World Cup incident.

He remembered how she had approached him afterwards, in the beginning of the term, minus tweedledumb and tweedledumber. He remembered how she had thanked him - thanked him for the warning he thought he had so carefully disguised as an insult. 

It made him angry, that he wanted to protect her from such things. He didn't want to care about anyone, certainly not a Mudblood. But she had known and she had thanked him. 

He hadn't been able to formulate a response at the time. She didn't seem to mind. She said a quiet "thank you for what you did for me", mumbled something about how she had reacted badly and she hadn't meant it, and that was it. He didn't speak to her for awhile after that. He refrained from insulting her for some time, but couldn't abstain from bashing her friends. He really hadn't intended for that curse to hit her. After that, though, she wasn't as civil as she had been. He never could bury his pride enough to apologize. 

Then, fifth year, there was the day she ran into the library. 

__

He hadn't thought of it as odd, at first… Hermione rushing to her favorite place... But she was crying. She was crying when she came in and after she collapsed at the nearest table, she continued to cry. He watched for awhile, not particularly concerned or really interested... It was just something to watch. Finally, when no one else talked to her, his curiosity got the better of him. It had a tendency to do this with matters involving Hermione.

He stood next to her for a few minutes and she refused to lift her head. Finally he cleared his throat. She glared up at him and then, once recognition sunk in... Then he saw something in her face that should have never been there when she looked at him. He saw relief in those sad brown eyes. 

That, he supposed, that was really where it all began. 

He continued ruminating on the subject of Hermione Granger until he fell asleep early the next morning.

**

She knew something was wrong as soon as she entered the common room. As much as she had been reflecting on what had just happened with Dra-Malfoy, she wasn't so lost in thought that she was completely oblivious.

Two pairs of eyes swung towards her, just as the portrait hole closed.

"Hey Ron, Harry."

"Hermione, can we talk?"

Trying not to allow her reluctance to reach her countenance, she stepped quietly over to the couch and had a seat next to Ron. 

"What's going on?"

"That's just what we'd like to ask you."

Hermione stared. There was no way they could have witnessed her conversation with Draco. Malfoy. Dammit.

"Hermione?"

She focused on Ron. "Yes?"

"You've been acting really odd lately. You're distant with us, you don't pay attention in class… And now there are these rumors about what happened with you and Malfoy – "

"Nothing happened with me and Malfoy!" Her irritation was reaching all new levels. If that arrogant sod had been spreading lies…

"Hermione… I saw you when you got back that night. Something definitely happened."

Harry had decided to join the conversation. And apparently, they were talking about the cursing incident… Perhaps she should tell them. They'd certainly get a good laugh at her revenge on Malfoy.

What, exactly, had it been revenge for? 

Oh, right. All of those years of name-calling and torment. It had been nice to practice some newfound skills, as well.

"Hermione?"

Yes, Ron, that's my name. She met his eyes to acknowledge the fact that he'd spoken but said nothing. 

No, there's definitely no way I can tell him about the dark magic. No way. They wouldn't understand. They'd probably disown me. Just like they did third year. Just like… Oh, god… she couldn't think about fifth year right now.

She sighed and shook her head. "Look, I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. I'm just a little bored, that's all. I've gone much too far ahead with all of my studies and I don't feel as though I'm learning anything new." That, at least, was true. She was a sixth year completely read up on seventh year material.

Ron and Harry exchanged a look. 

She stood up and muttered a goodnight before climbing to her room. There wasn't much more of this tweedledum – tweedledee rubbish she could put up with. Who was she supposed to be? Tweedleshe?

Not bloody likely. Why did she always get left out? First year, they hadn't even wanted to become friends with her until she lied to McGonnagal for them. And then, in second year, she had been petrified for the whole end of the term. Third year, they were angry with her for having the Firebolt checked and fourth year they were so angry with each other that she rarely saw either of them… not to mention the fiasco that was the Yule Ball... Fifth year… God, she didn't even want to think about fifth year. Great friends, huh? 

Hermione rubbed her eyes and flopped down on her bed. This was ridiculous to even be thinking about. Of course they were her friends. All friendships had problems.

Sure, but how many friends ignore you until they hear rumors about you and then pretend to care?

She buried her face in her pillow, wiping away the tears that had no right to fall.

**

Dreams that night were nothing but a repetition of the nightmare that had been fifth year.

__

Hermione gasped and dropped her fork. The clank resounded in the table area surrounding the trio. 

"Ronald Weasley, what did you just say to me?"

"I said, 'Bugger off and leave us to talk.' We don't need any meddling females to come between us. All you seem to want to do is destroy mine and Harry's friendship, Hermione. Why don't you go to the library or find yourself some other people to annoy or something, and stop hanging all over him all of the time? Can't you see how irritating you are?"

Her shock wouldn't allow her so much as a tear. Still unbelieving, and wanting desperately to chalk it all up to Ron's red-headed temper, she looked at Harry.

He was staring devotedly at his plate.

"Harry?"

He grimaced, but continued to study his plate. 

That memory had woken her in tears. She still had a hard time understanding what had happened to pull them so far apart. She knew now that they had completely underestimated Harry's grief and guilt at Cedric's death. Ron hadn't known how to deal with it, and dealt by skirting the issue completely. She had just taken Harry's feelings personally, falsely believing that somehow, every emotion he was feeling had to do with her.

Oh, if she had only known how very wrong she was.

But she still refused to believe that this was it, that these miscommunications and hurt feelings were the cause of the destruction of their friendship. It should have been so much stronger than that.

She should have been stronger than that.

She would be now.

***

Draco had never watched the famous Gryffindor trio so carefully. 

There was certainly something different about Granger. The way she sat with the two idiots only reinforced any theories Draco already had. She rarely looked at them, never opened her mouth, and seemed completely lost in her own thoughts. She wasn't even reading. Just sitting… Hermione idle was certainly not something a person would normally witness. 

As if she felt his stares, Hermione suddenly looked up. Their eyes locked for a moment and Draco wondered idly if the moron twins would notice and attempt to hex him. Hermione winked at him then, gathered her things, and swept from the Great Hall, without so much as a wave towards Potter and Weasley. 

He almost spilled pumpkin juice down his front after successfully tipping the goblet to his chin. What the hell was going on? Attempting to regain his composure, he set the goblet down and sighed. Before he could second-guess himself, he grabbed his books and rushed out after her.

**

Hermione bit her lip and rubbed her forehead. Surely, if he wanted to be civil, he would have come out after her by now.

She sighed. _Surely_, I read too much into things. Typical girl. She turned to leave her post outside of the Great Hall, only to be stopped by the blonde full of sneer.

"What is it in your little bushy head that makes you behave so oddly?"

Hermione frowned. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe she should just go right back to Harry and Ron and... and what, exactly? She turned her attention to the pointy-faced blonde boy in front of her.

All right, all I have to do is be polite. If he can reciprocate, maybe…Maybe I can actually talk to him. Maybe he'll make me a deal. She glanced up, meeting his curious stare.

"Well?"

"Must you always point out my faults? Can't you say anything to me without a veiled insult?"

Draco paused, taken aback.

"I could very well ask you the same thing."

A silence ensued for several minutes. "Alright, fair enough. Can we be civil with each other now, and stop behaving like children for a few minutes?"

Draco regarded her with interest. "Are we negotiating a truce?"

Hermione sighed, focusing her gaze on her shoes. "I don't know. But I…" she paused, unsure of whether or not she could really complete this sentence. "Iwanttocontinuetheconversationfromtheothernight."

Draco smiled. He wasn't even sneering. He was genuinely smiling. "You want to talk about dark magic?"

Slowly Hermione raised her eyes to Draco's. "Well… Yes."

Draco laughed. Hermione had never heard such an unwelcome sound. It was as if he had ripped out her very confidence and torn it to shreds. Her face fell and she prepared a full out defensive verbal onslaught when he suddenly stopped laughing. 

Her feelings had actually occurred to him. 

"Look, Hermione, I'm actually not belittling you. It's just really hard to not laugh about the Mudblood best friend of the dark lord's arch nemesis…practicing dark magic." It was amazing how easily that word rolled off his tongue. Then again, it wasn't really important.

It was funny how little that nasty word meant to her now. She reflected on how, in the past, it had hurt her so much. She had taken it as an insult beyond all insults. In her struggle to prove herself in this, the world of magic, a world she had been destined to succeed in, there was one word that instantly degraded her and made her feel inferior. It was disrespect, it was hatred... it was mockery of her intelligence and hard work… it was the embodiment of everything she feared and hated. 

But now, now she didn't believe him anymore. She didn't believe that the word carried any of that connotation with it when he spoke it. He couldn't pass it off as an insult anymore. 

Still, he didn't know that. And he had used it.

She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. "Look, nevermind. Forget I ever said anything. Sorry about any trouble I've caused you."

She turned to leave, but was stopped by a vice-like grip on her arm. 

"What do you want from me? Approval? Why involve me in your secret pastimes?"

She whirled around, irritation and embarrassment filling her every pore. How could he not understand? How could he not know? Did she really have to come out and ask? 

When her furious brown eyes locked onto his confused gray eyes, she knew he didn't understand. Couldn't. How should he know?

"Draco, I want your help."

**

He didn't know if she said anything after that. It didn't really matter. He wasn't sure what he said in response. He was vaguely aware of the Great Hall emptying behind him. His hand was still gripping her arm. Somewhere far off he seemed to see her wince.

Hermione Granger had just asked him for help. With dark magic.

"You… I can… You want… What…"

For some reason, the barrier between his thoughts and his words had now become impenetrable. He was overwhelmed with a barrage of disconnected yet related subjects and couldn't, for the life of him, construct a coherent thought out of any of them.

Hermione shook her head then, pried his fingers from her arm and was gone.

**

She moved to Ancient Runes as quickly as her legs would carry her, but she couldn't outrun the embarrassment, the anger, and the confusion that welled up inside her. Nor could she outrun her tears.

She stopped short outside the doorway and performed a drying spell on her face and the front of her robes. She took a deep breath, entered the classroom and spent the next two hours focusing every ounce of energy and concentration on one of her favorite subjects… on the material she had thoroughly dissected over the summer.

By the end of the class she gave up trying to block her thoughts and succumbed to the temptation of analyzing every word from her conversation with Draco.

God, was she an idiot.

**

Draco returned to the present as soon as Hermione had left. His ability to articulate thoughts also returned. But Hermione did not. 

This was not what he had been hoping for, for once.

He headed towards Binns' classroom, none too excited at the prospect of a long-winded lecture on goblin rebellions.

So, Hermione Granger wasn't the boring goody-goody Gryffindor that he had always expected. And she wasn't such a know-it-all, after all. 

She had asked for his help.

**

Hermione skipped lunch that Friday, opting to spend her free time in the library. The same, blank parchment sat in front of her for a solid twenty minutes, awaiting a Potions essay for the next week that she had no intention of writing. 

"Working hard, I see."

Her heart dropped into her stomach. Not now. I can't face him. Not yet. How will I ever live this down?

"Malfoy."

Seating himself across from her, he propped his feet up on the table and raised his eyebrows at her. "Given up on being civil, have we?"

"I think you pretty much decided that a few hours ago, didn't you?" Her voice had cracked on the last word. Dammit. She shouldn't let him know that he had hurt her. Her pride, that is.

Draco's mouth opened slightly. "I don't recall being rude to you at all. Actually, I would consider walking off in the middle of the conversation a little impolite, if you ask me."

Although this lightened her mood considerably, she refused to let her guard down yet. "I didn't." Calmly, she picked up her quill, loaded it with ink and began writing her essay.

Draco was not to be put off so easily. Pulling his feet down from the table, he leaned across it until she could feel his breath on her forehead. "Hermione. Stop. Look at me."

Hermione decided to obey, especially since her right hand had decided to start shaking and ink was being splashed in several different directions. Slowly, she raised her gaze to meet his, mere centimeters away.

"Let's make a deal."

She grimaced. She had a fairly good idea that anything Draco wanted from her would be something she wasn't willing to give up.

  
"What kind of deal?"

He smiled. His genuine smiles made him so beautiful. Especially in comparison to the way his face usually twisted into such horrendous smirks. 

As if he had read her mind, the smile twisted into a smirk. "Don't worry, little Granger. I won't make you do anything too terrible."

She wanted to slap him. Why, when they were making such progress, did he have to become such an obnoxious twit again? 

"If I help you with this, I expect you to help me with something in return. I'm not one to give out charity. And I don't think you'd trust me to help you anyway if you thought I was being completely altruistic."

Hermione bit her lip. "What do you need from me?"

"Your angelic reputation. Anytime I need something from the restricted section, you get it. Anytime I'm in trouble, you get me out of it. Anytime – "

  
"Okay, okay. I get it. But I may not have such an angelic reputation, since you told Dumbledore that I put that curse on you."

"Fine. I'll work something out. Give me some time and what you told him and I'll amend the situation. A little advice though, for next time…"

"Yea?"

"Don't curse me."

***

Ron didn't make any post-curfew trips that night and Harry refrained from watching the common room fire. The first Gryffindor match was the next day.

Ron smiled as he lay in the dark, quiet dormitory. He remembered how himself and Hermione had always constituted Harry's cheering section before, at games and even some practices. Last year the cheering section had dwindled to one when he joined the team and then no one, once the fight with Hermione had happened.

He wondered idly if she would come to the game tomorrow – if she even knew there was one.

He tried to suppress the feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was worried about something else. He tried to pretend that he wasn't worried that she would come and not cheer them on. He could almost picture her showing up in Hufflepuff colors, just to spite them.

But no, that had been last year's Hermione. She would have done something like that then. And… now, as Ron reflected on it more, he couldn't say that she would have been terribly unjustified. They had alienated her. They had hurt her. And he had played a major role. But they had made up.

__

He coughed, his face a little pink with the heat of the common room fire and the embarrassment of approaching her. She didn't look up.

"Um… Hermione?" She still didn't look up. He didn't even think that she was reading. 

"Hey, about what I said about you and Harry… I didn't really mean it, okay? I'm sorry."

Then she looked up at him. No, she glared up at him, a fierce glint in her eye that he hadn't seen since she slapped Malfoy. "You mean to tell me that now, two months after you effectively smashed my heart, abandoned me and hurt me as much as you possibly could… you didn't mean it?"

He swallowed. He didn't like where this was going. But he nodded, all the same, at a loss for the proper reaction.

"So, for the last two months I have hurt and hurt about something incredibly significant and painful that you told me. The things you said and did to me that I took so seriously, that I cried myself to sleep over… you're telling me that they meant nothing? That you weren't even serious? That it was all lies? I suffered… for lies?"

Oh, no… He really hadn't wanted it to go this way. He took a deep breath and stared at his feet, very afraid of the crazed, angry look on her face. "No… I'm not saying that at all. I just… You know how I am, Hermione. I get angry easily and I don't think things through and… and… Well… You know me…"

"Do I? I don't think so, Ron Weasley. I used to think that I did, but I don't think so anymore."

She was looking down again, a very defeated stance in her shoulders. He sighed and knelt by her feet, looking up at her. "Hermione, I'm the same Ron I've always been. You've always known me. You and Harry… You've been my best friends from day one… and… I don't really know where I'd be without you… Either of you…"

She looked up and met his eyes then, tears forming in hers. "Oh, Ron. I just… It was so… I felt so…" She paused and sighed, as if she couldn't quite articulate what she was saying. Finally she smiled, a weak smile but a smile nonetheless. "Truce?" 

He had nodded then and they had celebrated – all three of them – with butterbeer in Hogsmeade that weekend. But things never were the same. It felt as if Hermione was purposefully keeping distance between them. Ron would take two steps towards understanding her and she would retreat two steps into her shell, not opening up again for awhile. 

She hadn't wanted to get hurt again. He understood that now, but now was far too late.

He sighed and rolled over, a pain in his chest where there hadn't been one before. He couldn't think about this now. He had to rest for the game.

Little did he know how much rest he would need afterwards.


	3. Realization

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. All of the Harry Potter universe belongs to JK. And this makes me sad.

Thanks to Jennifer Moorman, my fantastic new beta.

___

Dumbledore sucked pensively on a lemon drop as he watched Draco leave his office. He had expected a barrage of demands concerning Hermione's punishment over the library incident, coupled with threats about what Lucius would do if said demands were not met. When Severus had informed him that Draco wished to speak with him, he had expected a belligerent, irritated Draco to enter his office. He had not expected an apologetic young man, admitting to lying about Hermione's actions in the library.

Apparently, Malcolm Braddock, a fellow Slytherin who had accompanied Draco to the library, had decided to practice the curse on the petrified Draco. For some reason, Dumbledore didn't quite believe Draco's story. Perhaps it was the fact that Braddock had been away on family business the night of the incident.

Even more suspicious were the reports from Madame Pince about Hermione's weekend penchant for the Restricted Section. Although a few of her visits had been sanctioned by notes from professors, she had made a furtive trip late one night. He didn't suppose that she had seen him.

Another concern of his was the accidents during Saturday's Quidditch game.

He had yet to discover their cause, and as it was now Tuesday, the prospect of finding out wasn't a bright one.

He sighed heavily and placed his head in his aged hands. The sudden weight on his shoulder a moment later announced Fawkes' arrival.

'No', he thought, 'no amount of phoenix singing can comfort me about losing Hermione Granger to the dark side. About losing to the dark side.'

**

Draco strolled into the library with a scowl on his face. Malfoys should not enjoy public libraries. Especially not public libraries with Mudbloods in them.

Oh, but he did. Every blasted second spent her with her he loved. 

He had never before seen the glow of pleasure and excitement Hermione possessed when learning. She had always seemed to know everything. 

He sauntered up to the table they had agreed to use, where, in spite of the fact that it was five minutes before their scheduled meeting time, Hermione was already hard at work.

"Eager to see me, as always."

He was greeted with a wrinkled nose of displeasure. "Eager to get started so I can get away from you more quickly."

He grinned. "Fine, don't want me to help you? Suit yourself."

He started to walk away and heard her sigh. Their morning routine would end, as it had the past few mornings, with her begging him to stay. What a great way to start the day.

"Draco. Enough of the bullshit. Sit down. I need to talk to you."

He froze, unsure of whether he should risk his pride by obeying her or risk not finding out what she had to tell him. Damn that curiosity.

He returned to the table but didn't sit. He was a man of compromise, after all. At least with himself.

Hermione didn't seem the least bit surprised.

"Alright, this has to stop."

**

Hermione mentally berated herself over her quip about wanting to get away from him. That was childish and stupid. Of course, him sauntering away and expecting her to chase after him was no better.

She was almost surprised when he came back. She hadn't pleaded with him like she usually had to. Sometimes he was such a total arse that she wondered if it was all worth it.

But she knew it was. She felt as if she had learned more in the last week than in her entire Hogwarts life.

"Alright, this has to stop."

He looked almost upset at her statement. Almost. He recovered quickly.

"Fine, I'll go. We'll forget this ever happened. That is... unless you do something to really piss me off."

She sighed. Every sentence was a fight with him. She had never known tension like the kind between her and Draco.

"Sit down. I'm not talking about this -" at this, she gestured around at the table full of notes and books. "I'm talking about my little visits to the Restricted Section. I can tell Pince is getting suspicious and I'm running out of professors to ask and excuses to use. Don't you have a decent library at home? Couldn't your father owl you some of the ludicrous books you've sent me after?"

Draco scowled for a moment. His scowl was then replaced by a thoughtful expression, as he looked her over. Then he smirked.

"Well, Granger, we could slightly...alter the deal if you want."

Hermione was instantly suspicious. If anything, he certainly kept her on her toes. "How so?"

"What kind of sexual experience have you had, Hermione?"

Hermione had never blushed so deeply in her entire life. Her mouth opened but she failed to decide on an accurate response. "Whaa...I..."

Draco smiled. "Don't look so shocked. You're not _terribly_ unattractive. I'm a teenage boy, and sometimes almost anyone will do."

If ever she thought about repeating the slap from third year, it was now. "Draco Malfoy. I can't even begin to express how insulting and...and...WRONG that little proposal is. I have never been so - "

"Who said it was a proposal? Are you trying to find things in my statements that aren't there, Hermione?"

"Your audacity astounds me. How could you be such a pompous little - "

"Aah... but you're not denying the truth in my accusation. You want me Granger, admit it."

"Just because I misinterpreted - "

"Coughfreudianslipcough."

Hermione was so angry she was close to tears. "You have done nothing but make me miserable from day one of our introduction. You are the most disgusting, insufferable idiot I have ever met. Why on earth would I ever - "

"Oh Hermione, it's alright if you've never had sex. I won't respect you any less. Don't feel the need to start insulting me. I never intended to upset you.... I didn't know that sex would be such a sore subject for you." At this, he paused, regarding her once more. "You've never even been kissed, have you?"

The combination of rage, resentment, hurt and a thirst to prove herself blinded Hermione momentarily and when she regained control, she found herself pinning Draco Malfoy to the desk and kissing him like she had never kissed anyone before.

***

Charms had gone... badly. Now that he was at lunch, Ron had a chance to reflect on some things.

Harry was getting worse.

Literally. It wasn't so much his daydreams - people had adjusted to those - but his incompetence in his subjects was quickly approaching a level equivalent to Neville's success with Potions.

Even his flying abilities were suffering. Ron could have sworn he saw him fall off of his Firebolt, but he was so close to the ground it was easy to take it as a jumping dismount. They had stopped using the snitch at practice, resorting to Rememberalls and... There had been murmurs about finding a new seeker. Ron couldn't blame the team, seeing as the last time they'd used a snitch at practice it had taken Harry five hours to catch it (and that was after a summoning charm).

Remembering Saturday's game, he didn't suppose it would be much of an issue. He wondered if Dumbledore would ever let them know what was going on.

As if Dumbledore had read his mind, he suddenly tapped his glass with a spoon, to bring the room to attention. "Everyone... everyone... If everyone could please quiet down... Yes, very good. I have an announcement that may please you all. After thorough investigation, we have decided to continue with the Quidditch schedule for the rest of the season. There will be a makeup game for the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs sometime in the next month. Thank you."

The old man took his seat gingerly, to a copious amount of applause from the students. He nodded and smiled, but to those watching him, it was obvious that he was less than excited by his own news.

***

Draco was, for the first time in his life, slow to react to a girl kissing him. It didn't last long. Before he realized the precariousness of their situation, he had turned her so she was no longer on top of him. Soon he had her propped up on the table, legs wrapped around his waist, mouths locked in years of repressed emotion.

This was passion like he never knew existed. It seemed that even sharing the same breath wasn't close enough... It wasn't enough to express what each member wanted to.

In the midst of this heated physical dialogue someone set off a filibuster firework a few aisles down. In his rush to pull away, Draco tripped over a chair leg and landed squarely on his butt. A flushed Hermione frantically tugged her robes and skirt back down and slid off of the table. For a moment no one spoke. Only Madame Pince's shrill reprimands filled the air. Then -

"Well. Perhaps I should make a proposal about that after all."

Hermione scowled, still red, picked up her quill and turned to the book she had been reading before he arrived.

Draco waited for her to respond. Finally, his curiosity got the best of him.

"Well? No comments? No facts about the average kiss that you care to share? You surprise me, Granger."

Hermione set down her quill and turned to face him. "What do you want me to say, Draco? _Oooh, Draco. That was the best thing that's ever happened to me._ Or how about _I've wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you_? No wait, you said something about facts? Want the statistics of the usual rate of -"

"Alright. You can stop. A simple glare would have sufficed."

"I doubt it. It's never worked before. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get some of this work accomplished before I have to go to Herbology." She looked pointedly at the empty chair across from her.

Draco sighed, picked himself up and took the seat in question.

"Alright Hermione. But you owe me a talk."

Hermione didn't smile, nod or acknowledge his statement in anyway. Somehow, though, he knew she agreed.

***

Ron chewed on his lip in anguish as he read through Tuesday's edition of the Daily Prophet.   
  
Fifty-six Muggles. Unbelievable. Was he any help to the cause at all?   
  
Attempting to ignore the rising guilt he felt, he concentrated on what Sirius had told him in the beginning... after his first night.   
  
_"People are going to die, Ron. You can't save the world. But you can try to save some people. Lives shouldn't be measured in numbers. Saving even one person is an amazing feat."   
  
Ron had been crying. The guilt had overwhelmed him that first night. People screamed and he couldn't save them. People died at his feet. _  
  
_And oh, God, the blood. He had pictured fighting the Dark Forces as something glorious and magical and heroic. When he had joined the Old Crowd in combat that first night, though, cold realization sunk in.   
  
The good guys didn't always win.   
  
The Death Eaters, the sadistic spineless bastards that they were, wouldn't simply use Avada Kedavra on people. Especially Muggles. They wanted suffering. They wanted pain. They wanted blood.   
  
Some nights he returned to the Burrow doused in others' blood. His Mum had been hysterical the first time she'd caught him, and even more so when she found out what he was doing.   
  
"First a dangerous curse breaker, then a dragon keeper and now this! Why can't you just settle into a nice office job with the Ministry, Ron? Like Percy?"   
_  
He had been so angry with her for that statement. But now he understood. After watching so many other people's children... actual children... die at the hands of the monsters he fought, he understood why his own Mum was so against his nightly missions.   
  
He had been injured most nights, in the beginning. The first time he had been hit with Crucio, he had wished it was Avada Kedavra. He had never wished for death with such a passion before that night. He still wasn't sure how he had made it home, how he had managed to roll away from almost certain death... how he had managed to move at all after that.   
  
But once summer ended and he got to Hogwarts, he remembered about a tool that lay within his grasp - a tool that would make his life so much easier.   
  
He had worried so much over that damned cloak. What if he lost it? What if it was damaged?   
  
Harry's face swam into view every time such dangers were imminent. It was that face that made him work harder - to dodge injury to the cape, to himself... to avenge the death of Harry's parents... to fight the forces that had tortured his best friend for as long as Ron had known him.   
  
Ron Weasley wouldn't be insignificant anymore. He wouldn't sulk in the shadow of the boy wonder. He would join him in his fight to save the world.   
  
It all sounded so noble. And then there were days like today.   
  
Fifty-six Muggles.   
  
Ron sighed and folded the paper into his Herbology book. 

***

Harry waited patiently at the gargoyle. He hadn't the slightest clue what the password was, but he was sure that if he waited long enough, the staircase would appear.

Dumbledore knew he was coming, after all.

Harry stared at the gargoyle. Finally, it started to move.

When he reached the top of the steps, he saw a very tired, sad old man sitting at the desk in front of him. Quickly, Dumbledore changed into a somewhat more cheerful form as he greeted him.

"Hello, Harry. Have a seat. Would you like some medichocolate?"

Harry frowned and shook his head. That was odd. He looked up at Dumbledore. "What did you want to see me for, sir?"

Dumbledore sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I need to talk to you about Hermione."

***

__

"Hermione?"

She had heard him but refused to look up. The pain wasn't as strong anymore. They'd left her that way for so many months now that it had had time to numb. But she remembered those months. And there was no way she was going to make either of their lives easier after what she had been through.

She had wanted to change Houses.

"Please, Hermione. At least let me know you're listening."

She made a rude gesture with her hand and went back to writing. She heard Harry sigh and felt the cushion sink as he sat down on the couch with her.

"I know that what we did was awful. I'm sorry. I've just been so... So confused and I didn't know what to do and I didn't want to deal with anything and... and... I was just really stupid about it all."

She continued writing and when he said nothing else, she sighed and put down her quill. 

"Harry."

She felt him shift places and turned to see the worry mix with excitement in his eyes. He wasn't sure if she would forgive him. Neither was she.

"Why isn't Ron here, apologizing with you?"

Jackpot. She saw his face sink and then his eyebrows attempt to save his expression to prevent her from noticing. He really had no idea how to lie to anyone.

"He... he's not ready to deal with this yet. But I need to. I need you."

She sighed again and looked at her homework. This was oddly reminiscent of the situation between Harry and Ron in fourth year. Only this time, Harry was attempting to take over her mediator role. 

She had been under the impression that there was no longer anything to mediate.

"Harry, I'm not mad. Okay? With either of you. Can we just leave it at that?"

She watched his face light up and then his eyebrows wrinkle as he attempted to decipher her meaning. She turned back to her homework and he, not as oblivious as she thought he was, took his cue to leave.

Hermione sat up in bed, a cold sweat on her forehead. Lately her dreams had been little but bad memories from fifth year.

She hadn't been mad. Furious, maybe. But that had only been in the beginning. Then she felt betrayed. And the hurt of betrayal had slowly faded to indifference.

She had lost her two best friends and everything was okay. The sun still rose and she could still perform most spells better than anyone else in her year. This fact had stuck with her, had turned the entire affair into a learning experience.

They were really insignificant.


	4. Contemplation

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. JK owns all that is Harry Potter. 

Many thanks to my fantastic beta, Jennifer Moorman!

___

"I am ready for love. If you'll take me in your hands, I will learn what you teach and do the best that I can…" 

-India Arie, _Ready for Love_

The game had gone badly. That was the understatement of the year. 

He had thought the first game of the season had been rather rough and odd… But these things were what Quidditch was made of. First year there was the spell on Harry's broom… Second year, there had been the rogue bludger after Harry… Third year… the Dementors… 

So when, at the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff game, the first of the term, the bludgers had started brutally attacking people on both teams, it hadn't caused much of a ruckus. After all, this is what bludgers were for. These were just more… aggressive than usual.

  
The Crucio bludgers hadn't actually come into play until mid-game. It was then that the bludgers began to produce screams from their victims like no Hogwarts student had ever heard. After the first one, Dumbledore was standing. The second one had just had time to come in contact with Hannah Abbot before he raised both arms and both bludgers hit the ground. 

The investigation had turned up nothing.

So, with a cranky student body, angry parents and no concrete evidence, the games were allowed to continue.

Ron was fairly sure that after this one, there would never be Quidditch at Hogwarts again.

The Crucio bludgers didn't make an appearance until almost the end of the game. The first one, reaching a Slytherin Chaser, had coincided with Cho reaching the snitch. What made this game different than the last was the petrification. As soon as she had touched the golden ball, she froze and the stadium full of students watched in horror as she plummeted. She wasn't moving and she certainly wasn't flying. She hit the ground with a sickening 'crack' and that was the end of it.

The Slytherins hadn't been without their casualties. Otherwise, he certainly would have been inclined to blame them for the problems. Two of their Chasers had been hit by Crucio bludgers. Their Keeper had started to bang his head on the left goalpost and had to be removed from the field, blood trickling down his face. 

He still hadn't figured out if that had anything to do with the rest of the mishaps, or if Bletchley was just as stupid as he looked.

Dumbledore had ended the game as quickly as he had the last, but the damage had been done. Ron had heard that Cho was in the hospital wing, with several broken bones and awaiting mandrake roots.

***

Harry frowned and pushed back his hair again. He couldn't wait to get out of Transfiguration. It was, by far, the most boring part of his day. All he could focus on was retrieving his Firebolt from his room and heading off to that night's Quidditch practice. Draco was getting much better and if he wanted Gryffindor to win any games against Slytherin this year, he would have to – 

"Harry!"

He glanced in the direction of the frustrated voice. Ron's face was a shade Harry had never seen. He must have been yelling for awhile. That was when he realized that class was over.

"Sorry Ron. What was that?"

Ron sighed, picked up his books and turned once again to Harry. "I'm going up to take a nap before dinner. I'll see you in the common room whenever you're ready to return to this world. Maybe we can play some exploding snap later on."

Harry watched Ron's retreating back, unable to focus on Ron's words or come up with an adequate response. Slowly, he gathered his things and strolled from the classroom. Feeling the familiar rumbling in his stomach that suggested hunger, he decided to drop by the kitchens for a snack.

As he rounded a corner in the first floor corridor, he wished dearly that he hadn't.

**

A little dazed after the long Transfiguration class filled with taking notes on things she already knew, Hermione Granger shuffled from the classroom, idly wondering if time would permit her to make a stop in the library before dinner.

Before she could wonder much more, a hand fastened itself to her shoulder.

"Don't scream, it's me. I want to talk to you. Just follow my lead."

Shivering involuntarily at Draco's whisper, she moved numbly in the direction his hand steered her. With a gentle, constant pressure, he guided her towards the dungeons. 

With each step, Hermione's dazed feeling wore off a little bit. When they had just the first floor, she began to panic. She stopped.

"Draco, what exactly is the meaning of this? Why couldn't we just talk in the library?" She spun so quickly that she almost knocked him over.

After recovering his balance, he grinned. "Shh, now. Don't panic. I said I wanted to talk to you and I mean it. Besides, you know we aren't really supposed to talk in the library." He winked at her. "I want to talk about our deal. You obviously aren't comfortable getting books for me from the Restricted Section. You didn't seem comfortable with a physical…exchange either… at least you didn't say that you were comfortable with it… I suppose, if actions speak louder than words then, well..."

Draco coughed, bright pink. Hermione supposed that this was the first time she had ever seen him blush. "Look, Draco… It's not that I wouldn't be comfortable… that is… It's not that I would mind so much… I mean… Okay… The thing is…"

Draco was suddenly very close to her. She didn't remember him moving, but suddenly she could feel his breath… and it wasn't necessarily unpleasant.

"Yes? You were saying?" 

If a voice could ever be described as silky, his was now. The blushing boy was gone. She wondered, momentarily, if she had imagined it. She could smell him now, that brilliant, spicy lemon smell that had permeated her robes after their first… interaction. His hand had suddenly found its way to her hair – twisting and untwisting curls while he watched her. His other hand was… oh Lord… how had it gotten there? She shivered, glanced at his hand gently tugging on the hem of her skirt and looked back up into his eyes.

And oh, those eyes… If it wasn't for that nasty smirk, she would have believed that he loved her… or at least that he liked her. But that smirk was always there, like he was laughing at a joke she didn't know she had made.

His proximity alone was enough to cause shortness of breath. She was beginning to wonder if she'd hyperventilate when she felt the same loss of control she had experienced the first time. This time, she knew what was coming and fought it. And fought it… and… Oh hell, anything to wipe that smirk off of his arrogant, know-it-all face.

Hermione allowed herself to take just one step closer to him and before she could second-guess herself, their physical dialogue picked up right where it had left off.

***

The common room was filled with first and second years. He should have known he'd never get peace and quiet. He tried to climb the steps to his room quietly, but then – 

"Ron! Ron! Over here!"

He sighed and turned to face his younger admirer. "Alright there?" He had no idea what this boy's name was. At the moment, he didn't much care, unless it was "sleep".

"Ron! I'm sorry about the Quidditch business. I think it's awful that they've just quit… I mean, I know that game was horrible but… I mean, we're witches and wizards. We can handle it. Right? Well, anyway, I'm sure you can. You're amazing."

Ron smiled, said his thanks and stumbled up the steps. He had always loved Quidditch and always wanted the spotlight. But since he joined the Quidditch team at Hogwarts fifth year, he had come to reevaluate his true desires. 

And now he desired sleep.

***

Harry, startled out of his seemingly constant reverie, was suddenly and unwillingly reminded of fifth year by the sight before him. Neither wanting to be a peeping tom nor wanting to be reminded of the more unpleasant part of his past, he turned and ran.

He couldn't escape those memories though.

__

Had her eyes always been so beautiful? Harry doubted it, although he had had little reason to notice before.

She smiled and blushed, noticing his gaze. "Harry, really. Don't be so shocked. I'm proud of your improvement. I think this is one of the best essays you've ever written."

He coughed then, turning red, and moved slightly away from her.

"Harry? Harry, what's wrong?" She was now sitting next to him, tilting his chin up to meet his eyes. Oh Merlin, Hermione. Don't you know what you're doing to me? He doubted it, until their eyes locked. That was when it happened. 

That kiss should have never happened. That kiss, borne of false feelings and confused emotions, caused more trouble than anything else could have. If only Ron hadn't walked in when he did, if only he hadn't been in love with her…if only it had been a one time thing…

But it had happened. He had told her that he loved her, and she believed him, although he had yet to convince himself. Ron had wanted a scapegoat desperately – someone to blame for the pain and the loss he was experiencing. Harry eventually broke down and allowed him to find one in her.

And oh, bless her. She was the real victim in the mess that their friendship had become. He let his own anger, guilt and confusion find an outlet in her. She should have known… She should have never let it happen… She should have never loved me.

Later, these same reasons for hating her became his only console late at night. She loved him. She wanted him. She would never have left him. He told himself these things repeatedly, as if that would make them true.

Deep down, he had always wondered if he had been wrong. And now, she was with Malfoy, and he knew… He knew now, without a doubt, that he had lost the Hermione he had loved long ago – that he had never really had her to begin with.

***

And she had thought the kissing was amazing. That was before his hand was moving up her thigh, underneath her skirt…

And her hands… She felt like she couldn't touch him enough. She was constantly moving them across his body, in a frenzied sort of desperation.

It was then that she realized something – something that had just escaped her conscious thought process in their last snogging session. Her thoughts flew over her recent, more intimate interactions with him, to the day Ron and Harry abandoned her and Draco 'came to her rescue' in the library, to the time she slapped him and missed a class because she had been focusing so much on what had happened between the two of them… She remembered all of these times as she kissed him, all of the things he had said to her in the years and the responses she had given him – and she realized something. She had always wanted this. She had always wanted Draco. Maybe it was the typical, cliched Good Girl/Bad Boy attraction, but she knew now that it wasn't a recent development. There had always been this passion here. The difference now was that they were allowing it to be released.

And it was certainly amazing. She had never shared such a passionate exchange before… She didn't ever want to stop… But lungs do require oxygen and so Hermione Granger finally pulled away.

"Draco." She paused before she finished her sentence, gasping for air.

He smiled, breathing rather heavily himself. "And you, my dear, are Hermione."

She smiled involuntarily. It wasn't the lame joke as much as the sound of his voice speaking her name – her first name – which pleased her so much.

"If you really want to incorporate… this…" at this, she paused, looked at her feet and blushed.

He smiled, waiting for her to continue. When she didn't, he cleared his throat. "Yes? What if I do?"

She coughed, although he could have sworn he heard a giggle, which seemed oddly incongruent with Hermione's persona. "Well, I mean… I don't think that we'll have time for this, along with my lessons, all during the midday break. Do you think that we should set up another time? Or… how... um… regular… did you want to make these… times?"

Draco smiled and bit his lip. It wasn't an act of modesty, more of pent-up energy. "So, the new deal is apparently good enough for you." At her nod, he continued. "Alright then. How busy are you at night?"

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "I… well… um… that is to say that I – "

"Relax, Hermione. Would it make you feel better if I referred to it as 'evening'?"

She smiled and forced a laugh. "No, that won't be necessary. I'm usually free for an hour or two, if I don't have any major projects due the following day."

Draco grinned. "Okay, well, how about we meet at ten o'clock every weekday, unless you have a 'project'?"

Hermione opened her mouth at once, then shut it, as if thinking something over. Finally, she spoke. "Well, the thing is… the library closes at eight."

Draco laughed. Her attention to detail had the amazing ability to make her seem naïve. And she, the know-it-all bossy girl that she was, was definitely at her cutest when she was naïve. "We'll meet somewhere else, then. How about the Charms classroom?"

Hermione shuffled her feet nervously, although her eyes displayed no fear. "Al-alright. Charms classroom. Ten o'clock. Right."

As she turned to leave, Draco touched her arm, causing her to jump slightly. "Hermione. It'll be okay. I'm not going to let us get caught."

She nodded, smiled at him and trotted up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower as quickly as possible.

He sighed, shook his head and turned towards the dungeons. He knew, somehow, that that wasn't all she was worried about.

*** 

By the time he had reached the Fat Lady, Harry had decided not to tell Ron. He could only imagine two reactions; cold indifference or dangerous, red-hot anger. He didn't think he could deal with either right now. Right now, he needed someone who would console him. Right now, he needed… Hermione. 

As he trudged through the common room, various other ideas came to mind. Sleep seemed a viable option, although he had, as of late, been afraid of sleeping, afraid of the nightmares he would have.

It was then that he thought of flying – his one true repose from life.

Without further contemplation, he grabbed his broom from the dorm and sped towards the Quidditch pitch.

***

Ron yawned and stirred at the sound of his dorm door opening. He cracked his eyes open just in time to see Harry rushing back out with his broom in hand.

He groaned, rolled over and flopped onto the floor. He knew precisely how much trouble Harry would be in if he got caught. 'Quidditch practices are never cancelled for no reason, Harry.'

He stood and stretched, as he contemplated how to deal with the situation. Dumbledore had cancelled any further Quidditch until the cause of the accidents was discovered. Apparently, Harry either didn't remember this or didn't care.

What a stubborn git he could be.

With a heavy sigh, Ron shuffled out of the dormitory, down the steps, through the common room, and straight into a flustered Hermione at the portrait hole.

"Hey-" she paused and gasped for breath, "Ron."

He smiled, opened his mouth to greet her, and closed his mouth again. "Umm… Hermione? Are you okay? Perhaps you ought to come in and sit down."

She laughed. "Well, Ron, that's just what I had planned to do, before I knocked skulls with you." She rubbed her forehead and smiled.

Ron grinned sheepishly and ducked out of her way. When she collapsed on the couch, he followed suit in a nearby armchair, watching her.

It was odd now, to sit here with her like this. He remembered when he had been head over heels in love with her – when he would jump at the opportunity to sit near her, to defend her honor, to strangle anyone (aka Viktor) who constituted competition. She had been his childhood crush. After her and Harry and the fight that Ron had instigated over it, he had had plenty of time to reflect on this crush. He had also had plenty of time to mature. When he stopped being selfish, when he stopped wanting everything that Harry had, when he began fighting the Dark Side on his own, he stopped wanting Hermione. He loved her – he always would – but he didn't want to have what her and Harry could have – should have – had. This realization had been a difficult one for him to reach, and when he finally accepted it, he had experienced more guilt and regret over his actions than he had ever imagined he would feel. He bit his lip, banishing these thoughts and watched her busily scratching down notes in a book he hadn't even seen her carrying.

After a few moments of awkward silence, she looked up at him with an odd expression on her face. "Weren't you going somewhere when I came in?"

Ron cursed under his breath. He had completely forgotten about Harry. After explaining the situation to Hermione, she wrinkled her nose in thought.

"Well, he's certainly done worse before. I'm sure he'll be fine. You know they'll excuse almost anything he does anyway."

Ron rubbed his eyes and looked at her again. No, this wasn't Hermione. Hermione would never be this calm about someone breaking rules, especially Harry, and especially if she thought that he might be in danger.

"What… What if something happens to him?"

"Oh what, like a mysterious Quidditch accident? I'm sure that's a load of rubbish anyway, Ron. I mean, Quidditch is all about accidents and disappearances and the like, I thought that's what made it – "

Hermione paused, mid-exasperated babble. 

Ron, who now realized that she hadn't been at either of the games, cocked an eyebrow at her. "Hermione?"

She flew from the room with no explanation other than a few muttered curse words on her way to the portrait hole.

Ron sighed, glancing first at the portrait hole and then towards the dormitory. The best solution to this confusion, he felt, would be sleep. 

Tonight would be a rough one. He had received an owl from Dumbledore this morning. The Death Eaters were moving in on Hogsmeade, and Hogwarts had to be protected at any cost.

***

Hermione's thoughts were racing faster than her feet would agree to move. 'Why didn't I see this sooner? How could I have been such an idiot? Where in the bloody hell has my mind been lately?'

When she reached the Quidditch pitch, she found a very dazed Harry, circling aimlessly and rather close to the ground. 

"Harry!"

When he failed to react, she stepped closer to his circling figure. "Listen, Harry, you should really come with me."

As if hearing her for the first time, he slowed down, landed shakily and met her eyes. "What?"

"Harry, I really need you to come back to the castle with me. I think that something bad is going to happen."

Harry frowned, as if he was trying to remember something. After what seemed like an eternity, he shrugged and followed her off of the pitch. She tried and failed to start an interesting conversation with him. Finally, she gave up and allowed his thoughts to drift back to wherever they had been residing lately.

Merlin save Malfoy should she get a hold of him tonight.

***

By ten o'clock that night, Hermione wasn't as mad as she thought she would be. In this situation, the more she thought about it, the less angry she became. It was almost to the point where she didn't really care.

But her curiosity wouldn't quite let her get that far.

She had made her way stealthily to the Charms classroom a few minutes early, and wasn't the least bit surprised to find him there already.

He nodded at her and waited. It was as if he knew she had something else on her mind.

"Malfoy, I need –"

"No Draco anymore? Granger, I'm hurt."

She sighed. "Sorry. Draco. Look, I want to ask you something, and I don't really know if we're on the sort of terms that you would confide things like this in me, but I really need to know and so I thought that -"

Draco sighed and held up his hand. "Hermione. Ask me the damned question already."

She glanced at her shoes and took a deep breath. "Have you had anything to do with the recent Quidditch accidents?"

He stared at her but didn't respond.

She sighed. "Have you had anything to do with Harry's recent behavior?"

Again, she was answered with silence.

She took a deep breath and rubbed her forehead. "Look, I didn't put it all together until today, but come on Draco… The books on the Sleeping Beauty curse? The Daydreams curse? The book on Obsession Potions?"

He still stood there, watching her, refraining from comment. She could have sworn she saw his eyes twinkle.

"Jesus, Draco. How about the one I got you entitled Deadly and Illegal Quidditch Spells? Was that one subtle enough for you?"

Then he laughed. He laughed and ran his hand through his hair. Finally, he stopped laughing and lowered his voice, approaching her as he spoke. "I was wondering when you'd figure it out, of course… it's really not as simple as you paint it." He was so nonchalant that he could have been discussing the merits of dryer sheets.

She was overcome with shock. Did he expect her to discover that he had been trying to kill her best friend and then just giggle about it and make out with him?

"Draco…"

He stopped centimeters away from her. "Yes, Hermione?"

"Why?"

He frowned then. "I thought you just figured that one out on your own. I needed them to assist me with some… special magic."

She resisted the urge to grind her teeth. "No. You know exactly what I'm asking. Why are you doing this?"

He sighed then, stepped away from her and took a seat on the window ledge across the room. "I thought you were learning so much."

"This has nothing to do with what I'm learning."

"Au contraire. This has everything to do with it."

She stared at him for a few moments, then at her feet. It wasn't so terrible, hearing this from Malfoy. What was terrible was that it was true. Hermione felt suddenly that everything that she had been mastering lately was now mastering her. She didn't feel guilt at what was happening. She didn't feel as though she should protect Harry anymore; she hadn't in awhile now. She supposed that she only did so out of habit now.

After a long while, she looked up. "Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Just don't let me be an accessory to it. Don't rub it in my face. And please, **please**, don't allow me to hurt him, willingly or otherwise. It's the least that I owe him… If I forsake my last ounce of loyalty."

Draco nodded, without even a hint of a smile in his face and approached her again, this time enveloping her in a hug. "You'll have nothing to do with any of this."

His nearness made her smile, and almost forget about the hatred she felt towards herself at the moment.

***

After returning to the Gryffindor common room, Harry flopped on the couch. There was something about Hermione – something important, and he couldn't for the life of him remember what it was. It tickled the back of his mind mercilessly, but as much as he cried uncle, it refused to give in.

He sighed heavily and returned his focus to the broom in his hand. Why had he stopped flying? Oh, right. Hermione. And what else was there about Hermione? 

He was starting to get a headache. With a loud groan, he rubbed his face and rolled over onto his back. He found Ron staring down at him.

"You missed dinner Harry."

Harry frowned. He knew that he'd come back from the pitch before dinner. Had he been lying there, on the couch for that long? It didn't seem possible.

"Ron."

Surprised, Ron raised his eyebrows. "Yes, Harry?"

"What on earth is going on?"

Ron took a deep breath. "That's precisely what I've been wondering. Let me know if you figure it out."

With that said, Ron shuffled his way over to Seamus, for a game of exploding snap.

Harry watched him go and reflected on what a fantastic Keeper Ron had become. With that segway, he became lost in the world of Quidditch once again.

*** 

Hermione smiled into her pillow that night. She wasn't proud of her feelings, but she couldn't help them. On the one hand, she was angry with herself for not being upset about what Draco was doing to Harry. On the other hand, she was really learning something now, and through that knowledge she felt as though she was gradually becoming more powerful.

Draco had even said something about the progress she was making. She frowned, thinking back on what he had said. 

__

"I can't tell you how impressed I am. I always knew that you were brilliant but I never really expected you to be anything special…"

She watched him, waiting for him to speak again and he returned the stare. Finally, he spoke.

"I gave another innocent Gryffindor lessons in the Dark Arts once. She wasn't nearly as capable as you are, however. I wasn't expecting you to be so talented."

Hermione had blushed at the compliment, but the little details in that sentence had had time to fester now. And it bothered her. A great deal more than it should have.

Just who was this other girl? Had he had a similar _deal_ with her? Was she just another one on his list?

She was suddenly angry. Angry at him for not seeing her as special and angry at herself for caring. She was also angry at the jealousy she had no right to feel.

Godammit. She was falling in love with him.


	5. Control

Disclaimer: Fine, I own nothing that is Harry Potter. Make me sad…

Thanks to Jennifer for her continued excellent work!

Thanks to the great reviewers! I've left responses as reviews myself.

___

"I am ready for love. Would you please lend me your ear? I promise I won't complain. I just need you to acknowledge I am here."

India Arie, _Ready for Love_

Dumbledore's source had been lied to.

Aside from causing an immense distraction for the Old Crowd and allowing the Death Eaters to take as many victims as they pleased, this implied a great deal of unpleasantness for his source.

The Death Eaters hadn't struck Hogsmeade. He had been found out. 

Avery, like Snape, had decided to change sides. His was more likely inspired by the disgusting, frightening form Voldemort had become than a problem with his conscience. There was something about knowing that a… being… had willingly been thrown into a cauldron with a severed arm, bits of his father's corpse and the blood of a 14 year old boy in order to resurrect himself that made you really question the sanity of your leadership.

Avery was not, however, going to return to Voldemort now, unlike Snape. He was not going to suffer like Snape had and he was not going to die. He hoped for an early retirement.

Unfortunately this was all very unrealistic. Without all the help they could get, the light side would most certainly lose, and a world-dominating, insane Voldemort was a nightmare like he'd never imagined.

He sighed and approached the gargoyle to see what suggestions Dumbledore had to offer.

***

Draco paused, regarding her while she read. She felt his intense gaze, and eventually decided to look up.

"What?"

"Well, not that it's any of my business… But what made you decide to get into… this?"

Hermione sighed. She thought over the speech she had so well rehearsed from every time she had asked herself this question.

"They betrayed me. They hurt me. I found out that I couldn't trust them. And they were the only ones I had ever trusted. The only two people I had ever allowed to get close to me. I don't… I don't exactly make friends easily, if you haven't noticed."

She paused and rubbed her eyes. Draco got the feeling that she would speak again but his impatience wouldn't allow him to wait for very long. 

"And?" 

She sighed again. "There was always this one constant in my life. There was always one thing that never betrayed me, that never let me down, that always made me happy, solved problems for me and answered questions that no one else could…."

She glanced up at him.

He smiled. "What, the library?" It was a teasing question, but the look in her eyes made him wish he could take it back.

"Basically. Well, learning. Reading. I've always loved it. I've yet to be disappointed. Even when I was little, my parents would always be working and I would read. It was just me and my books most of the time… or school…" She took a deep breath. "After Ron and Harry…. Well… then I just buried myself in my studies. They still didn't let me down. Of course... I learned all sorts of hexes for revenge…" She stopped and gave Draco a little wicked smile before she shook her head and continued. "But I'm not really a spiteful person. It was just interesting. Those hours spent reading and researching in the library became my only comfort. It was like a drug for me."

Draco nodded and turned his attention back to the book in front of him. A few moments passed before he heard her, in an almost inaudible whisper;

"There is a problem with a learning obsession, though."

He glanced at her in curiosity. She didn't continue. He cleared his throat. She looked up again, surprised.

"You run out of things to learn." It sounded as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

Draco grinned. Only Hermione Granger. Only Hermione Granger could get addicted to the library. And only Hermione Granger could run out of things to learn.

***

Harry sighed, pushing a rather abused piece of chicken around his plate with a fork.

He just didn't understand. He couldn't do anything right anymore. He had never been yelled at by so many professors in his life as he had in the past week. He had even been to see Dumbledore.

Although he didn't remember what about.

Obviously, he had done something wrong.

He took a deep breath and put down his fork, pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes. He wanted to cry terribly. But you don't cry when a) you're a 6th year, b) you're a boy and c) you're Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.

Ron nudged his shoulder. He looked up and wondered briefly where Hermione was. He hadn't seen her in quite some time.

"You alright, Harry?"

Harry nodded absently and turned his focus back to his chicken.

***

Ron frowned.

Obviously Harry wasn't doing much better. He grimaced. He wasn't doing so well himself. He shifted his position in an attempt to get more comfortable and winced at the ache in his back. Hell, his whole body ached. He couldn't remember how long, in between strolls patrolling the deserted streets, he had squatted near Sirius' old cave in Hogsmeade.

Not that it had been a terribly bad thing to not have to face Death Eaters, but somehow the fact that they hadn't shown up was even worse.

It certainly meant that they would have to try new tactics. There was no one else on the inside – no one else that could provide them with Voldemort's next plans.

He almost wished he could join. 

Almost.

As little as Ron valued his own life at the moment, he wasn't yet to the point where he was willing to sign it over to Voldemort. Even if it would be to help Dumbledore.

He sighed and glanced over at Harry. Besides, who would be there to take care of him? Hermione didn't seem to care.

Maybe that was what was bothering Harry. Before he could reconsider his assessment of the situation, Ron began formulating a plan to reunite the two.

Ah, hell. The three.

***

She had made it through almost the entire midday session without so much as flinching. Almost.

Of course, this was the day they would work on love potions.

"Alright. Now. Do you know which ones are actually legal?"

Hermione nibbled on her quill. "Most of the infatuation potions and the lust potions. Very few of them are long lasting, and they're mostly used by married couples. You can buy several of the weaker versions at local Apothecary stores."

Draco nodded. "What are the exceptions?"

"Well, there are a few that have… stronger and longer lasting effects. These take over the mind so that… so that all the subject is capable of thinking about is the object of his affection. These are borderline obsession potions. The others – "

"And what's the difference?"

Dammit. He couldn't just leave it alone. He was going to make her face what he was doing to Harry. He wasn't going to just let her push it to the back of her mind. She had to know and she had to accept it. She took a deep breath.

"The obsession potions cause the subject to become trapped… He loses the will to do anything but think about the object of his desire. Some of them cause the subject to lose his powers with every moment he spends with the object of his desire. The obsession potions are permanent, and very few outside of the Ministry can undo the damage."

Draco looked at her. Hermione rubbed her eyes and set down her quill. "The subject will now only be able to concentrate on Quidditch. These thoughts will be his life, yet he will be unable to perform even the simplest tasks required of his Seeker position."

Draco nodded. She had to respect him – he didn't smile. He maintained a composed façade the entire time. She doubted that anyone else could remain so stoic about revenge on his childhood nemesis.

"So Hermione. Tell me… Have you ever concocted one of these love potions?"

Hermione frowned and shook her head. "Of course not."

Draco did smile then. "And why not? I hear it's an added bonus in relationships. Some of the weaker ones really just serve to intensify feelings that are already there."

His eyes were boring a hole through her head. She knew exactly what he was asking her, and she wasn't going to play his game.

"Draco, dear. Tell me… Have you ever used any of these potions to 'enhance' anything? Maybe on another naïve, unsuspecting Gryffindor?"

He shook his head in amazement. "Touché, Hermione. Touché. But really, I think you're trying to ask me something else. Why don't you just come out and say it?"

Hermione sighed. "Fine. Was there anything between the two of you?"

Draco smiled. "No. Besides, she had bigger fish to fry." At this, he raised his eyebrows.

Once again, her curiosity got the better of her.

"Who was it?"

He smiled, closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. He had wanted her to ask all along, that greasy bastard. "I believe you know a girl by the name of Ginny Weasley?"

Hermione's mouth definitely dropped open. "Ginny? But she- wait, she… how did she…who was-?"

Draco laughed. "I'm not one to go telling other people's secrets, Hermione. Besides, it really has no relevance to today's lesson, now does it?"

She shook her head and picked up her quill. Silence ensued for a few minutes, with Hermione awaiting Draco's next questions that never came. Finally, she gave in.

"Well?"

He smiled and leaned across the table until she could feel his breath on her cheek. He began to whisper in her ear and every nerve ending on her body jumped to attention.

"I think perhaps we've done enough of this today."

Hermione gasped, slightly, and tilted her head so that she could meet his eyes. For the past five years, those steel blue eyes had always been hard, angry and unrelenting. Now they had changed. Now she saw excitement and hunger.

Hermione smiled and kissed him, to his immense pleasure, before she abruptly stood from the table and began gathering her things. He was left there, draped across the table, mouth open and eyes wide with shock.

She smiled again. "Break's over. See you tonight."

She turned and walked briskly from the library as Draco Malfoy slid off of the table, onto the floor and lay, sprawled on his back in a mixture of exhaustion, disappointment and excitement.

This girl was more amazing than he had ever given her credit for. 

***

That night was no different than most. The nightmares were still there. Still terrible.

__

First, as always, there was his mother, holding a red bundle that he assumed to be him. As the image became clearer and more focused, the bundle turned out to be the disgusting snake-like creature that Voldemort had embodied before taking his human form. 

He looked up at his mother and found instead the beady eyes of Peter Pettigrew, and he noticed for the first time that the bundle was not, in fact, wrapped in red cloth – it was only soaked with the blood from Peter's mangled, bleeding stump. 

Then he found himself in the graveyard again, with Cedric's body next to him, but this time he remembered things differently – this time, it had been Harry who had spoken the words that killed Cedric. This time, the Death Eaters were bowing to Harry and kissing his robes, and Harry realized with disgust that he liked it.

Then he was back at Hogwarts, only it wasn't there anymore. There was a great deal of rubble from the aged, weathered building, and there were students and professors… but only the bodies of them.

Wanting desperately to find Ron and Hermione (**surely**, they had found a way to defeat whoever had created this monstrosity, after all, they always managed to save the day), Harry started towards the castle, only to trip over the body of Albus Dumbledore.

Not wanting to believe what he saw, and desperate to find the **real** Headmaster and tell him what he had seen, he ran into the remains of the Entrance Hall only to find what remained of both Ron and Hermione. 

This was too much for Harry, who collapsed on the floor in tears. Something shiny caught his eye and he glanced up to find himself eye to eye with Tom Riddle.

It was several minutes before he realized that he was looking into a mirror. In spite of his instinct's screams against it, he raised his wand. 

  
"Prior Incantatum"

In shadowy depiction, he watched the death of Albus Dumbledore.

He looked down at his hands, dropping his wand, and looked up again at his surroundings. He had done all of this.

He sat up in bed, tears soaking his face and sweat drenching his body. They usually didn't last that long. He usually woke up once he returned to Hogwarts, or at least after he found Dumbledore.

He usually didn't have to know that he had killed them all.

***

Hermione hadn't been able to eat all day. She couldn't remember having ever been this nervous before. Today, they would go to Hogsmeade. Today, she would find out how powerful she was.

They were going to practice on people.

When Draco suggested some 'practical lessons', Hermione had assumed they would work some fun, harmless spells on an unsuspecting Hufflepuff under the breakfast table. After Malfoy explained about Hogwarts' dark magic sensors, she realized that this would be impossible. So they were going to Hogsmeade and they were going to practice on people.

She had been running all of the less dangerous curses through her mind, hoping that she would not screw up or hurt anyone. She sighed, pacing the ground outside of the gates to Hogwarts, when a familiar blond head rounded the corner. She smiled at the sight of him.

He grinned as he leaned in to whisper, "You're going to use Imperius."

Hermione stumbled away from him, tripping on her own feet. "Nno.. Draco… I never said that… I th-thought… we wouldn't really hurt them…"

Draco's grin disappeared. "You aren't going to hurt anyone. Besides, I doubt you'll get it right today anyway. It usually takes much longer to build up the kind of power needed to perform the Unforgivables."

Hermione looked at her feet. She was also afraid of going to Azkaban. Some silly afternoon with Draco was certainly not worth Azkaban. "Are…are you sure it won't work?"

Draco regarded her for a moment. "Well, no. If there was no chance that it would work, there wouldn't be much of a point in attempting it, now would there? I just want to see how powerful you are, Hermione. And how much longer we really need to continue with your lessons."

Hermione looked up at him. It hadn't occurred to her that there would ever really be a stopping point in the lessons. It angered her that he would give them up that easily, but even worse was the fact that he didn't think she was powerful enough to perform Imperius.

"How will you know that it's working anyway?"

"You're going to use it on me."

After a few silent minutes, Hermione took a deep breath, nodded, and followed Draco through the town towards the secluded area he had selected earlier.

***

Draco laughed. She looked so serious about the whole ordeal. He just wanted to hear her tiny, hesitant voice in the back of his mind, deny her requests and get the whole thing over with.

"Draco, get down on your hands and knees, kiss my toes and tell me how incredibly powerful I am."

Draco laughed at the ludicrous request and was about to gently take her wand and explain how much power she would feel surge through her hand when she actually performed the spell correctly. Just as he reached for her wand, however, he found himself suddenly down on the rocks and mud. Before he could prevent himself, his lips made contact with the soiled toe of her left Mary Jane. He spit furiously but soon his own mouth turned against him.

"Hermione, you are a goddess. You are the most powerful witch in all of existence. You will rule the world some day and I only hope that you will allow me to be your ever-faithful servant."

He rose from the ground as quickly as he could and found that his body was obeying his orders again. The voice had left him and he looked up to see a very pleased Hermione.

"You bitch," he spat through sudden irrational laughter. "You really are going to rule the world some day, you know that?"

She smiled, nodded, and waited, almost fearfully, to see what would happen next. He hadn't said that they _wouldn't_ practice on other people. She half expected him to point out some innocent shopper and instruct her to use Imperius on him.

Instead, he brushed his hair from his face, took her hand and strolled back towards Hogwarts, Hermione in tow.

She didn't mind his assumption, a fact that almost shocked her. For the first time in her life, she didn't mind letting some one else take control.

***

Ron watched Hermione glide unknowingly by his seat in the common room late that night. He almost reached out a hand to stop her, almost voiced his hello along with his concerns… But for the time being, he restrained himself. He wasn't quite ready to approach her, and she didn't seem like she was in the type of mood to care about anything he had to say.

He had watched her many nights now. Before the night in Hogsmeade, he had taken to sitting in the common room after he returned from his nightly battles. Sometimes it was to accompany Harry, but sometimes, he just sat alone. He could almost understand why Harry had made it his late-night solace. And he would notice her, of course, every time she snuck in, hours after curfew. Always around the same time, she traipsed back in through the portrait hole and up to her dormitory. Some nights she would be humming. Sometimes she looked almost tearful. But she never noticed her surroundings, never saw her red-haired companion.

He knew for damn sure that she wasn't spending these nights in the library.

He supposed it had been naïve of him, to assume that Viktor and Harry (and in earlier years he had liked to think himself) would be the only love interests in Hermione's life. Of course there were other guys out there. Of course she wouldn't commit herself to _Hogwarts, A History_ forever. 

Ron almost felt like a father figure, in times like these. Like he was watching his little girl grow up. It felt odd, to consider Hermione younger than himself. She was, technically, but she had always been so much more _mature_. She was the one who dated a 17-year-old Quidditch star when she was a fourth year. _She_ had always been the voice of reason in the trio. She _seemed_ older. But not anymore.

He supposed that it was the life he was leading. It certainly hardened a man. And if it didn't make you grow up fast, then nothing did. It was difficult, sometimes, to discern whether or not he began fighting because he matured or matured because he began fighting. 

He thought back to how it had all begun. He didn't like to; it wasn't one of his more treasured memories. But he would never forget that day. It was the week before the end of the term, and Dumbledore had called him to his office. He had quietly informed Ron of Lupin's death. 

Remus Lupin had become rather close to the boys in the years following his employment at Hogwarts. For Harry, he was like extended family. To Ron, this was a matter of extreme importance. 

Ron, growing up, had always taken for granted having a family – it was hard not to, with six other siblings and happily married parents. They were always around. There _was_ no such thing as privacy in the Weasley household. Because of this, he was sometimes envious of others who didn't have to live in such a crowded situation. Regardless of his occasional yearnings for privacy, however, he would have never made it without them. He missed them all, even Percy, when he was at Hogwarts. He couldn't imagine growing up alone, like Harry had.

It was because of this that Ron had always wanted to share his family with his best friend. And certainly, he welcomed any existing loving family of Harry's with open arms. Falling into this category were Sirius and Lupin.

Not family per se, but family in Harry's eyes. Dumbledore's news sent Ron into a sort of panic. _Who would tell Harry? How would he respond? How would he deal with losing another piece of his family? _And finally… _Who would be next?_

That day he didn't cry. He didn't allow his panic to surface. He simply turned to the Headmaster, in a very collected manner, and announced his plans to fight the Death Eaters, regardless of any sanctions given to him. He wouldn't let this continue. He wouldn't sit idly by while people died. He wouldn't let Harry lose any one else.

When Dumbledore had pointed out that Harry could quite possibly lose him, if he began fighting, Ron simply shook his head. 

"I can't continue to not act."

Dumbledore seemed to understand. Ron had a hunch that the old man had known his plans all along. It fit in nicely with his theory that the Headmaster could tell the future.

Dumbledore was really quite a bit like God.

At least, in the eyes of his students. 

Dumbledore had told him that he was old enough to make his own decisions - that once he left for the summer, his life was up to him and not his Headmaster. He had agreed to a policy of ignoring Ron's summer activities, but warned that once he resided on Hogwarts' grounds again, he would inform his parents of his actions.

Ron didn't remember much of this. He nodded continuously, agreeing with everything Dumbledore said and tuned in again only for his instructions.

__

"Contact Sirius. He'll tell you everything you need to know."

He had bid the Headmaster a farewell and he had left his office a new man.

That was the day he decided to apologize to Hermione.

He sighed and glanced up at the steps she had so recently traveled. What on earth was she doing every night?

And who was she doing it with?

***

As Draco lay in bed that night, an odd sensation overcame him. He thought about Hermione, about the power she had displayed that day and the power she had always carried with her. He couldn't believe that he had never appreciated it before.

She had always embodied the strength and courage that Gryffindors were supposed to represent. He had always known that, and, much to his chagrin, he was proud of her for that. 

And to feel her performing the Imperius Curse on him, well that was simply more of a turn-on than anything else she could have done. He didn't even think that her stripping naked and dancing on his lap would have been more erotic.

At this image and the rising heat in his crotch accompanying the image, he grinned. Well, maybe that was going a little too far.

So she was brilliant. And she was brave. And powerful… Powerful enough to harness a spell in one try that had taken him months of practice to master. He wondered, momentarily, if she had practiced it in secret.

But on who?

He rubbed his eyes. It didn't matter. What mattered to him at the moment was Hermione and the fact that he couldn't seem to get her off of his mind. He wanted her.

He already had her.

Physically.

And it was at this moment, when Draco did not experience extreme satisfaction from that fact, that he realized something else. 

He wanted more from Hermione Granger.


	6. Hesitation

Disclaimer: I am a poor, jobless college student that has no claims whatsoever on anything that is Harry Potter. Please don't sue me.

Thanks to Jennifer for her continued excellence in Beta-ing. 

Also, thanks to the great reviewers; Rose AquaFire, falin angel, Blanche Dubois (hope you aren't too disappointed with this chapter… Chapter 7 should have a bit more… steaminess…), Mina, angeL_1215, Mystic Rains (hah, thanks… Snape's still alive and well… and… well I've always liked him, so perhaps he can make an appearance later on…), Fire Demon (swallows nervously), and Kou Shun'u (*blushes* you're very sweet). 

You guys are all so sweet and encouraging, and I don't know how I'd get my butt in gear to write if it wasn't for you. Thank you.

___

"The cruelest lies are often told in silence." - Robert Louis Stevenson 

Hermione sighed and pushed her books and parchments onto the long table in the Charms classroom. She wasn't sure she'd be able to concentrate tonight. Ever since she realized that she…. Well… that she had more-than-platonic feelings for Draco Malfoy, she had been miserable. A dull ache had filled her chest, throat, mind… it never allowed her to concentrate. She wasn't sure if it would ever leave her. And that thought scared her like no other.

"Here early, of course."

She turned to face him, watching him glide through the doorway, his figure lit only by the light of the moon that spilled in through the window. He looked… beautiful. 'It should be illegal to move that gracefully. Hell, it should be illegal to be that… _sexy'._

She nodded numbly as he reached her.

"Not that I would expect anything less from you." He paused and pulled her towards him for a soft kiss before he began to speak again.

She wanted to faint. It was amazing, after all these times, that still a simple kiss made her feel like jelly. She couldn't help but wonder how… how something more would make her feel…

He smiled, seeming to understand her thoughts. Oddly enough, it wasn't an arrogant smile. He looked genuinely pleased. "Hermione, love, as much as I'm enjoying our arrangement, I must know how you feel about it."

She could have dropped to the floor right then. '"Love"? Since when has Draco Malfoy ever referred to _anyone_ as "love"?'

She swallowed hard, and took a deep breath before she trusted herself enough to speak. "I'm… It's… It's fine. I'm okay with it. Only…"

Oh, shit. Where the fuck had that "only" come from? _Why_ had she allowed herself to speak? What would she say? 'Only, I'm afraid that I'm falling in love with you and I'm desperately afraid that I'll end up getting hurt?' Right. Reveal your deepest weakness to Malfoy. The one who could hurt you the most. The one that _would_ hurt you the most, at any opportunity.

He cocked his right eyebrow. "Only what?"

Of course he would notice that. What the hell do I say now? 

…

What if I don't say anything at all?

Slowly, shyly, Hermione inched forward and reached a tentative hand up towards Draco. Gently, she pulled his head town towards hers. He didn't object. Their lips met and all talk of onlys was forgotten in the hot, wet, exchange of breath.

Fuck. She'd never been kissed like that before. This would certainly not help her _not_ fall in love with him. She broke the kiss before it was done and pushed him away, turning again to her books.

Draco's parted lips and questioning eyes betrayed his confusion. "Granger? Care to explain?"

She didn't turn around. Her shoulders shook slightly.

  
He spoke a little more tenderly the second time.

"Hermione?"

When she still refused to respond, he grasped her shoulder, firmly spinning her towards him. Christ. She was crying.

"What? Was it really that bad?"

She didn't respond, and instead collapsed into him, sobbing hard and soaking his robes with her tears. He sighed and wrapped his arms around her, awkwardly. Draco Malfoy was not accustomed to comforting people - especially sobbing girls - especially sobbing Mudblood girls. 

Oh, fuck, but what's the difference? This was not a girl whose touch was dirty. This was not someone inferior to himself. This was… this was Hermione Granger, who would rule the world some day.

He embraced her a bit more confidently and waited until the sobbing subsided. "Hermione?"

Slowly, ashamedly, she raised her tearstained face to meet his questioning gaze. "I'm… I'm sorry."

He sighed and moved the two of them carefully to a seat on the floor. "What's wrong?"

She took a few deep breaths and became immensely fascinated with the floor tiles. "I… I can't… I don't really want to tell you."

Draco sighed, a bit frustrated. "Well, Hermione, if you're not going to tell me why you just burst into tears after kissing me, then I'll have to ask you to not sob all over my robes, either." He glanced down and performed a quick, muttered drying spell. 

She took another deep breath. "Draco… I… I'm afraid my feelings are going to get in the way of our… deal… and I can't continue with it."

Draco looked up sharply from the spot on his robes that looked suspiciously like mascara. "Feelings?"

Hermione bit her lip, intensified her focus on the floor tiles, and said nothing. One of the tiles began to glow slightly. 

Draco cleared his throat. "Hermione, look at me."

While subconsciously contemplating how she had gotten the tile to glow, she obeyed.

Brown eyes met gray eyes.

And she knew.

"You, too?"

***

Harry sat quietly by the common room fire. He wasn't sure how long he had been there, and he couldn't seem to focus his thoughts. He was dreadfully afraid, however, of going to sleep.

  
Perhaps he could attain a wakefulness potion… yes… That ought to do the trick. But from where? 

"Harry."

He looked up to find Ron watching him strangely from the armchair opposite his own. He wondered idly how long he had been there.

"Yes?"

"You alright?"

Harry sighed. Ron was always asking him that. Of course he wasn't alright. On the other hand, he didn't quite know how to explain what was wrong. There had to be something more than the nightmares… Although…. 

Harry shivered.

Those were pretty terrible. The threat of dreaming such awful things made him afraid of sleep. 

"I think we should go see Dumbledore."

Harry sighed and then nodded his agreement grudgingly. Gently, Ron pulled him from his seat and half-pushed him towards the portrait hole. 

Hermione met them there.

Guilt, shock and fear raced across her eyes before she managed to look pleasantly surprised. "Where are you two headed?"

Ron sighed, making a mental note to talk to her later, before he answered.

"Dumbledore."

Fear embraced Hermione's facial expression once again.

"Is everything alright?"

Ron couldn't wait until later anymore. Not after this blatantly false pretense of friendship. "No, Hermione. Everything is _not_ alright. Everything has not been alright for quite some time now. If you hadn't been so busy gallivanting around at night with Merlin knows who, then perhaps you would have given a damn about what your… Oh hell, I don't even know what he is to you anymore. Before last year, I would have said your best friend. After last year, I would have said your love. Now, though… Now… I don't suppose he's much of anything to you, is he? So I guess I shouldn't be surprised at your lack of compassion. Goodnight Hermione." Ron paused before adding under his breath "Goodnight, _Granger._"

Her eyes followed the pair as they exited through the portrait hole before bursting into tears. _Goddammit. I can't cry again._

She took a deep breath and slowly trudged her way up the stairs to her dormitories, thoughts of Ron and Harry and Draco flying freely in her head and tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

Once within the safety of the 6th year girls' dorm, she collapsed onto her bed, pulled the curtains tightly shut, cast a few silencing and locking spells, and sobbed herself to sleep.

***

Draco's smile wouldn't leave him as he strolled through the Slytherin common room and up to his dormitory. After disrobing, he climbed into bed, pulling the curtains shut, and remembered what had just happened with Hermione. It seemed surreal. The goody-goody Gryffindor know-it-all snogging him in empty classrooms after curfew...

And oh, Merlin was he thankful for it. He had almost memorized the feel of her soft, tentative lips embracing his own. And the way her body yielded slightly to his… but never enough.

He sighed, folding his arms behind his head. And then… then there was the emotional aspect. _She loved him_. Or she would soon. And… And damned if he didn't love her too. 

He supposed the deal was all shot to hell now. Otherwise, it would be amusing to have his girlfriend - could he even call her that?- withholding physical activity until he taught her some new spells. Well, perhaps it would be amusing to some neutral third party. Draco wouldn't find it funny in the least.

So now there was the dilemma of what to do about the deal. Honestly, he wanted her to learn about the Dark Arts almost as much as she wanted to. He could only imagine having a partner so… possessed with power. Hell, they would be able to take down anyone… _anyone. _Draco grimaced. Voldemort would certainly be on that list. But hell, who was he kidding? Two sixth years taking on the dark lord? It was laughable, at best.

He sighed and attempted to block the thoughts he knew would come, anytime he thought of Voldemort. He _couldn't_ remember this right now. He _couldn't_ think about this. Hermione was what he wanted to concentrate on now. Hermione, the girl he had hated. Hermione, the girl who had hated him. Hermione, the girl he had always been angry with because he couldn't hate her. Hermione, the girl who he had always wanted to hate. Hermione, the Mudblood who spat in the face of all that his father had taught him with her abilities and intelligence and… and beauty. Hermione, the girl who he had always wanted… and now had…

***

Dumbledore entered his office in his pajamas and stocking cap, nodded to a very rumpled, very disgruntled McGonagall, and had a seat behind his desk as she left him with the two boys.

A moment of silence passed while Dumbledore regarded the pair.

"Is this about Miss Granger?"

Ron's look of surprise betrayed that it wasn't. "No, sir, but I've been worried about her lately, as well. I've wanted to chalk it up to… to a new boyfriend," at this Ron blushed rather deeply, "but I don't know that that's all it is."

Dumbledore nodded. "Tell me why you're here and we will get to the mystery that is Miss Granger."

Ron swallowed and glanced at Harry, who was staring blankly at a spot on Dumbledore's desk. "Sir, it's… it's Harry."

Dumbledore turned the focus of his gaze to Harry before he spoke. "Yes… yes, from what I hear, something _is_ wrong with Harry, and has been for quite some time now," He paused, noting that Harry never looked up or responded to hearing his name in any way. "Harry?"

Slowly, Harry's gaze traveled to meet Dumbledore's. "Yes, sir?"

"Tell me what's been bothering you lately."

Harry swallowed. "Well… Um… I've been having nightmares…"

"Nightmares? What happens in these nightmares?"

Harry took a deep breath and plunged into a description of the reoccurring horror that had become his nightly experience.

When he had finished, Dumbledore sighed heavily and brought his hand to his face, noting Ron's frozen expression of horror and shock. Apparently Harry had never told anyone about this dream. He pushed up his glasses and rubbed his eyes gently before he refocused on Harry and began to speak.

"This is bad, Harry. Why didn't you come forth earlier?"

Harry blushed a bit. "Well, I mean, it was just a dream, and… and besides… I… I would forget…"

"Forget?"

Harry nodded and Dumbledore saw the focus leaving his eyes once again. He didn't speak. And he probably wouldn't for the rest of this session.

Dumbledore sighed and turned to a rather depressed looking Ron. He pulled out his wand and muttered a summoning charm, handing Ron the vial that had arrived in his outstretched hand. "Give him this before you go to bed. It's a dreamless sleep potion. It certainly won't cure his problems, but it will at least help to alleviate the symptoms."

Ron nodded and tucked the vial into his robes, shooting a concerned glance at Harry.

"Now, tell me your observations on Miss Granger."

Ron took a deep breath. He could get Hermione into some serious trouble if he did what Dumbledore asked. Perhaps he could be vague.

"Well, she doesn't seem to care about me or Harry anymore. She never comes to lunch… Actually, I can't say that I've seen her at any meals in quite sometime. She seems… bored… in her classes… And… Well… I'm concerned."

  
He had managed to avoid the part about sneaking out after curfew every night.

Dumbledore sighed. "Ron, I fear that Hermione has started down a path from which she may never return. I don't know that there is much that you can do to help her… Her biggest problem, I fear, is a struggle of the mind. You say that classes bore her? So does everyday life. And I fear that she has turned to… other areas… in order to find something of interest. Hermione Granger is a brilliant mind, I'd say the most intelligent student to pass through Hogwarts since Tom Riddle…"

Dumbledore paused and removed his glasses, folding them neatly on the desk. "And I'm afraid she may share his fate." 

'Oh no oh no oh no… Hermione? No.' Ron wanted to cry. There was only so much losing of his friends that he could take in one day. What good was he anyway? People were dying, nightly, while he scrambled to try and discover where the Death Eaters were. Meanwhile, the most brilliant student at the school, one of the people closest to him, was turning to the very things he was fighting against. And to top it all off, Harry seemed to be losing his mind. Harry, the dearest hope of the good Wizarding World… Harry, the last and best defense against Vol….He-who-should-not-be-named. Ron made a decision.

"Sir, I think I should go in. I think I should take Avery's place."

***

The next morning came entirely too soon for Hermione Granger. For the first time in her Hogwarts career, she considered lying in bed for the entire day. After a mental dissection of her current responsibilities, however, she decided that this would not be the wisest course of action.

  
Aside from that, she needed to speak to Ron. Desperately. She hadn't realized how much she still cared for both him and Harry until he had thrown her recent indifference in her face.

She also wanted to see Draco. The thought of seeing him now brought on an odd sensation. She finally understood the meaning of the 'butterflies in your stomach' saying.

She sighed, swung her legs over the side of the bed and shuffled towards the showers. It wasn't until she was facing a mirror in the 6th year girls' bathroom that she realized she was still wearing her robes from yesterday.

She groaned. This would be a long day.

***

Draco was early to breakfast, for once. He couldn't believe the ridiculous excitement he was feeling over… over a girl. He was so excited, in fact, that he didn't notice the familiar eagle until it dropped a letter in his porridge. He sighed, fed it a piece of bacon, and stared at the letter.

This would not be good news. After waiting a few more minutes in order to watch a Hermione that never showed, he began to unravel the parchment.

'I wonder where she could be. Come to think of it, I haven't seen her in here in quite some time. Not that I'd want to eat with Gryffindors, if I were her, but you would think - '

Draco's train of thought was immediately broken by the hastily scrawled note on the parchment in front of him.

_Draco - _

He will be contacting you soon. I cannot explain further, but I'm sure you'll understand why I wanted to owl you beforehand.

-Lucius Malfoy

Draco swallowed. This would not be good at all. 

***

Ron quite nearly choked on his pumpkin juice when Hermione strolled into the Great Hall for breakfast that morning.

She nodded and took a seat across from him, while he attempted to conceal his coughing.

"Ron, we need to talk."

He nodded and waited. She didn't speak. "Well? You're the one that wants to talk, so - "

"It's about what you said to me last night."

Ron looked down at his plate. He felt his ears begin to burn. He coughed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah…. Ron?"

He looked up.

"I…. I'm sorry. I don't know what else to tell you. I can't explain anything to you… but I'm sorry. It's not that… It's not that I don't care…I just…"

Ron bit his lip. "Hermione, what's going on? Why can't you tell me? Remember me? Ron? Best friend?"

Her eyes sharpened a bit and she smiled slightly. Shit. Shouldn't have said that. 

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Remember last year Ron? Remember Harry? Your best friend?"

He didn't answer, instead turning his gaze to his plate once more. His face was turning a lovely shade of pink.

"Why should I tell you anything now? How would I trust that you won't just turn your back on me again and break my heart again? How do I know-"

"Break **your** heart? That's rich." Ron's interruption was quite a bit louder than he had intended. Several Gryffindors turned to watch the pair. "What about mine, Hermione? Don't pretend you didn't know. Did you ever stop to think about how _I_ felt? No. Sorry that I didn't control my reactions better. Sorry that I cared. I don't know what you expected of me. Did you just want me to hide it all? Did you just want me to play Mr. Indifferent? Did you want me to live a lie?"

"Oh, poor little Ronniekins. Well, we all catered to your feelings in the end, didn't we? Fuck how much it hurt Harry. Fuck how much it hurt me. As long as you were happy, that's all that mattered, right? Don't you dare go on about how much _I_ hurt _you_. You have no fucking idea."

Ron opened his mouth and closed it again. He looked down at his plate once more, for several minutes this time. He took a few deep breaths and when he raised his face again, she saw tears in his eyes.

He hastily wiped them with the back of his hand, mumbling something about allergies and took another deep breath.

"Fine. I thought we had gotten past this, but apparently not. I apologized. I thought I had paid my dues. What else do you want from me? What can I do to make up for how much I hurt you? What do you want me to do?"

Hermione stared at him for a few moments before she sighed. "You can't. I'm sorry Ron. It's not a matter of forgiveness. It's a matter of forgetting. And I just can't do that. When I look at you… Every time I look at you, I remember. So I can't explain my actions to you now. I just ask that you stay out of the way and stop accusing me of not caring. Remember, because _I _sure do. You left me first. You both did."

Ron sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do whatever you want, Hermione. Only…" He paused and shook his head, thoughts of last night's conversation with Dumbledore flying through his mind.

"Only what?"

He shook his head again. "Nevermind."

Hermione sat at the table for a few moments longer and glanced around. "Where's Harry?"

"He's not going to class today. He's catching up on some much needed sleep."

She wrinkled her brow. "Is everything okay?"

Ron bit his tongue. _Will not comment on her lack of compassion again._ "It's… well… no, but I'd rather not get into it now." He paused, thoughtfully, for a moment. "But, hey… Hermione? I was thinking that maybe the three of us could go to Hogsmeade this weekend. I think it would do him a world of good to spend some time with you. You up for it?"

Hermione nodded, her mind racing wildly. _Oh, Merlin. What has Draco done? Maybe I'm not okay with this. I should talk to him._ She turned around, found his gray eyes in the crowd and motioned towards the Entrance Hall. He nodded.

This exchange was not lost on Ron.


	7. Bittersweet Sugar Quills

Disclaimer: Okay, I may have a job now, but I promise you it is not a lucrative one. Please don't sue me. Harry Potter is all JK Rowling's and Warner Brothers'. Certainly not mine.

Long Chapter, Long Author's Notes.

Thanks to Jennifer for her fast and fantastic work yet again.

Thanks to the great reviewers: Alie , Serpena (aww... You are too kind!), Blanche Dubois (hope you like this chapter!), and Iyaka Nari.

OOTP

So, my fanfiction is officially AU. I won't give away spoilers, and I won't be changing anything. It's not too bad though. That's the beauty of writing a Draco/Hermione fic that focuses more on Hermione's POV than Harry's... You never really know... Some of this could be canon...

Alright, so... DSOL, Chapter 7. This chapter, I feel, needs a little warning from me beforehand. First of all, I have submitted to your requests for more smut. Hah. Smut's a strong word. Let's just say... More action. I hope it is up to par...

Next... Hermione's... actions in this chapter... *Heavy sigh*. I don't think many of you will like what happens. But I do feel that what happens in this chapter is necessary for her development as a dark character and, as a result, to the plot itself. I have attempted to mix the appropriate amount of angst and remorse in with her other feelings on the matter, but I'm not sure that it will ever be quite right. 

Please review and let me know what you think.

So, without further ado, the long awaited Chapter 7 - Enjoy!

~~~~

"When a wizard goes over to the dark side there's nothin', and no one matters to 'em anymore."  
-Hagrid 

Dumbledore sighed, shifting the Remembrall he was holding to his other hand. He had told Ron that a decision would be reached by Monday, concerning his proposal about becoming a Death Eater. Although it was still only Saturday, he could not help but feel ill at ease.

Avery and Snape had immediately agreed to Ron's idea and Sirius had grudgingly assented shortly after the proposal had been brought to his attention. Snape had volunteered to train Ron, although the sneer on his face suggested that six years of annoyance had not been forgotten in Ron's recent heroism. If Snape trained Ron, he would be ready. Severus Snape would put him through hell.

But they were working within a limited timeframe. Ron would have to demonstrate his switch in loyalties, and do so in a believable manner. Due to his use of Harry's invisibility cloak the past few months, fewer of Voldemort's followers would realize just how passionately he supported Dumbledore. The possibility still existed, however, that Ron's true intentions would be discovered. Ron would have to prove his loyalty to Voldemort beyond a shadow of a doubt, and within a limited amount of time. Death Eater initiations for students would be occurring in the next few weeks. Even with Severus' hard work, Dumbledore was not sure that Ron would be ready.

And he would never send Ron into a deathtrap like that unless he was much more than ready.

Another large concern of the Headmaster's was the situation with Ron's companions. Hermione was fast losing her loyalty to their side, from what Dumbledore had deduced, and Harry….

Oh, Harry. For his entire life, Harry Potter had had a secret guardian, constantly watching him and protecting him from any evil he possibly could. Albus Dumbledore had safeguarded him from the moment of his parents' deaths. And now… Now, Dumbledore had failed to protect him. Now the boy was suffering. And he had no idea why. But he had a good idea as to who was behind the ordeal.

Dumbledore sighed again. The sting of pain that came with the realization that he had failed Harry did not lessen with the knowledge that Harry didn't know he had failed.

He carefully set down the Remembrall and buried his face in his hands, leaning heavily on his desk. An exhausted Fawkes arrived quickly at his seemingly continual perch on Dumbledore's shoulder, but as had been the case for the past few days, neither his presence nor his song made much of a difference.

***

Ron's plans for Hogsmeade would not work out as well as he'd hoped. He knew that all would **not** be forgotten as soon as she'd swept into the common room and announced, yawning, that she was ready if they still wanted to go. She had become distant and withdrawn again, in these last few days.

At least now he knew who to blame it on.

That stupid, evil, git. Of course he was the one pulling Hermione down. _Of course _he was behind it. 

Oh Merlin… But Hermione? And Malfoy? 

Throughout his earlier years at Hogwarts, when he had been in love with Hermione, many other students had occurred to Ron as competition for her love. He'd found flaws with every last one of them - reasons that they would be wrong for her - not even sparing his best friend. 

But Draco Malfoy had never even crossed his mind. 

Obviously, he was wrong for her. Combining every other boy's flaws wouldn't even compare to the multitude of reasons why Malfoy didn't deserve Hermione.

The last two days had been quite an endurance test for Ron.

He had thought that not knowing where she was going after curfew was bad. Now, he almost wished for ignorance. And he almost wanted her to come back crying one night, so that he would have an excuse to destroy Malfoy.

He watched her stroll towards the portrait hole following his confirmation that him and Harry did still want to go. When Harry failed to react, Ron tugged on his sleeve, rising to his feet. 

Hermione glanced over her shoulder, managed a weak smile at the two of them, and stepped through the portrait hole.

***

Now that Saturday had arrived, Hermione wished that she had not agreed to the Hogsmeade trip so quickly. She would much rather have spent the day in the library, or in her room, reading over some of the newer materials Draco had given her.

On second thought… the Charms classroom would have been a lovely place to spend the day as well. She stifled a giggle and thought back to why neither of these options were available to her.

She had been arguing with Ron… And at his mention of Harry's…. illness… She had felt a sudden wave of guilt and not paid particularly close attention to the rest of Ron's babble. She had heard "Hogsmeade", "weekend" and "three of us" and then she had found those intense, steel blue eyes in the crowd and everything else had been forgotten. Even her guilt had melted away at his words.

__

She exited the Great Hall quietly, propped herself up against a wall and waited. She didn't have to wait long.

"Draco."

He looked rather distracted but managed a weak smile. "What's wrong?"

She sighed. "Well, I… Ron…Oh, I don't know. I feel guilty. I don't think I'm really okay with what you're doing to Harry. God, Draco. Why? Why are you doing this? How can you hurt him… hurt me... like that?"

Draco shook his head in utter amazement. "I thought I saw that stupid git talking to you. Well, yelling, blushing and choking on pumpkin juice are more appropriate descriptions of what I saw. Hermione, Hermione… That conscience of yours… This is none of your concern. You have nothing to do with this."

She sighed, willing back tears and anger and stepped closer to him, her eyes blazing and her teeth grinding. "You… didn't…answer…my…question…" 

  
Draco tried not to smile at her anger. He sighed. "I can't. I'm sorry. I can't tell you. I can't talk about this with you. But Hermione… You mustn't concentrate on Harry. Where was he last year, when you needed him? For that matter, where was Ron? Where **is** Ron? Still doesn't make an effort, does he? And where am I? Where am I every spare waking moment… or for that matter, every dreaming moment? Where am I every time you need me?"

She waited for him to say more. When he didn't, she realized he was awaiting her response. She swallowed. "You're… You're with me…"

If he hadn't known what her answer would be, he wouldn't have heard it; her voice had dropped to a volume entirely too low, especially for her. He nodded and pulled her closer to him, smiling as her wild hair tickled his nose. She tilted her face up towards him, watching him.

He met her stare with one of his own, and smiled down at her.

It was at that moment, when Draco was holding her so closely, so tenderly, outside of the Great Hall, where they could be caught any minute… When he was risking his pureblood, Slytherin reputation… It was at that moment that she realized how much he did love her… and that neither Ron nor Harry had or would ever love her this much. 

It was at that moment that her loyalties solidified.

***

Harry sighed again. After far too much time spent in Honeydukes and a lengthy, heated discussion between his two companions in The Three Broomsticks, all Harry wanted was a stop in Hogsmeade's Quidditch shop, _Snitch and Snatch_. He had been agonizing over his lost shopping time the entire trip.

He coughed, but failed to interrupt the still-arguing pair.

"Ron."

After a few minutes of being ignored, he decided to try a more forceful approach. He grabbed the back of Ron's robes, effectively spinning him around and shutting him up. 

"Ron, I'm going in there now," he gestured towards the shop. "It's only open for another hour."

Ron opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it, quickly glancing back and forth between a frustrated Harry and a bored Hermione, who was currently examining her fingernails.

He cleared his throat. "I've got to get back. Hermione, will you stay?"

His pleading tone was oddly incongruent with the glare that accompanied it.

She sighed, kicked some dirt and nodded. Harry fled towards the Quidditch store, yelling something about an hour.

***

'Well at least I won't have to listen to any more of his rubbish tonight' Hermione thought grimly as she watched Ron jog from Hogsmeade.

She had made the mistake of picking up a green, sour-apple sugar quill in Honeydukes, and Ron had exploded. Before she even realized what had happened, and what he knew, he was railing on about her penchant for Slytherin, Draco Malfoy, the Dark Arts, and had finally began to refer to some mythical relationship she likely had with Voldemort before she had had enough. The arguing hadn't ceased until he finally trotted from the village.

She wasn't sure how he had found out about her, Draco, and the Dark Arts, and she really couldn't believe he had turned it into such an ordeal.

Hermione yawned after several trips around the store. It was already quite late. _Snitch and Snatch_ didn't close for another twenty minutes, and she had run out of things to look at. Harry didn't seem to be having any problems. She was sure that she should have been back at school by now, but she couldn't very well leave him to find his way back alone, not in his current state of mind. 

She decided to take a little stroll up to the shrieking shack, in the meantime. 

The city was oddly quiet for a Saturday night, but for some reason, this didn't frighten her. Once there, she walked carefully around the little building, cloaked in the darkness of its shadows, remembering Remus Lupin's effects on the inside… Remembering how scared they had been when they had first met Sirius there.

She smiled. If only they had known what a harmless little puppy dog he was. As she reflected on this, she almost didn't hear the rustle behind her. Almost…

She spun around just as her attacker was raising his wand.

She knew she was under the Imperious, by the light, easygoing feeling in her brain. That was okay, she had worked on fighting it…first with Crouch Jr. and then with Draco. She began to think about how odd it was that such supposedly dark wizards had taught her such an important defense.

And then her common sense kicked in.

She had to get out of this situation. She looked up at the man attempting to control her. She couldn't see his face… only a shadowy nose under his hood.

__

"Turn and follow me from the city, calmly. Do not attract any attention. Do not make any noise. Just walk."

She felt her legs beginning to move and she let them. She wondered if she would be able to fight the Imperius while pretending to comply with it. She doubted it. She abruptly stopped moving, causing immense pain in the legs that had tried to keep walking, and pulled out her wand.

With a few choice words and some beautiful bright green light, the man collapsed on the ground and Hermione felt his control over her die with him.

It took a few moments for her to realize what she had done. It sunk in when she had already started running.

She passed a very bewildered Harry outside of the now-closed store in her run from Hogsmeade without noticing his presence. He sighed and followed her back to Hogwarts.

***

Ron paced nervously in front of the gargoyle which hid the entrance to Dumbledore's office. He couldn't, for the life of him, remember the password. He strained his memory, thinking over what McGonnagal had spoken to the gargoyle two nights ago, but it was in vain.

He sighed. He had no particular urge to interrupt his head of house after curfew on a weekend… And it wasn't really that important that he spoke with Dumbledore tonight. He just needed to feel somewhat justified after his arguments with Hermione.

She had denied any interactions with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But Ron was concentrating more on what she _hadn't_ denied. She had ignored his accusations about both Draco Malfoy and the Dark Arts. And when he had tried to bring them into the argument, she had fumed on about how he could ever expect her to work for Vol- He-… Oh, hell. Voldemort.

She was very good at avoiding those two questions, each time adding a little dig at him in her response, so as to draw his attention from the subject at hand. Although it worked at the time, Ron had realized what was going on. He wasn't entirely thick. 

But… If she wasn't siding with Voldemort… Then perhaps Hermione wasn't entirely evil. She had been very passionately against him in all of her speech, come to think of it.

  
This made little sense to Ron. If one is going to embrace the Dark Arts, then one is embracing evil. And if one embraces evil, how can one reject the king of evil himself?

And yet date the prince of evil at the same time?

***

She had never seen him angry before. She had always thought, in those years of name-calling and mutual torment, that he had been moved to anger on occasion. She realized now that she was wrong.

"WHAT?" 

She swallowed hard, tucked an unruly strand of hair behind her ear and brushed away a few of her most recent tears. She began pacing as she spoke. "I… I had to… I mean… I suppose I could have… But I was scared… and defending myself… and oh, god… he was going to… I don't know… but nothing good… Draco, do you think I'll have to go to Azkaban?"

Her voice had become shrill. He turned away from her, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed and sighed. She heard him sigh several more times. Maybe he was just breathing heavily. She couldn't tell. 

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

She bit her lip. "No… I'm fine… But I mean… I think he-"

Draco held up his hand to stop her and turned around. His eyes had a very pained look in them. He moved forward and pulled her to him by her elbows.

"You're fine? You're sure?" He spoke in a whisper.

She nodded. 

He squinted. "The son of a bitch is lucky that I wasn't there. He would have wished for his death. He would have thanked you for putting an end to the pain that I would have delivered to that - "

This seemed to send his thoughts into a spiral of obscenities centered on her attacker, and what exactly Draco would have done to him. He had pulled away from her now, was shaking his head and angrily pacing, cursing quietly every few steps.

"Draco?"

He stopped his cursing and his pacing and met her eyes.

"I'm glad that you care."

This was definitely the wrong thing to say. His face contorted into an odd expression at first, as if he was fighting with bashful self-appreciation and angry embarrassment. Finally, cold indifference managed its way to the front lines.

He shrugged his shoulders, glanced at his feet and met her eyes again, his now icy and reserved. "I could lose a lot too, you know, in a situation like this. I know how you Gryffindors like to talk."

She wanted to either slap him or leave. But she realized, for the umpteenth time since the arrangement had first been reached, that Draco was complicated and it was best to simply leave things like they were. She rolled her eyes and forced a grin.

"Right. And like you Slytherins don't love to mouth off."

His face broke into a grudging smile and he approached her again. He sighed. "No…erm… snogging tonight. I think you've been through enough today. But we can talk or work on some new spells if you want, although…I suppose now you don't really need to know anything else, if you can perform _that _one."

She blushed but shook her head. "There's still so much I don't know. I really want to look into the magical theory behind some of this… and I'm sure the history is fascinating."

Her eyes had taken on the excited glint she got when learning. Draco smiled. "Alright Hermione. Let's get started."

***

Harry wasn't sure how he reached the Gryffindor portrait hole. He didn't exactly remember. He remembered _Snitch and Snatch_, and he remembered Hermione and that was about it. 

He sighed. He really did miss her. And for some reason, every time he thought of her now, a memory tickled the back of his mind. He couldn't place it. He couldn't even focus on it. It was more like waking up from a dream and not remembering what it was about. All he could piece together was Hermione and feelings of hurt and betrayal… No, not betrayal exactly… More like…. 

Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead, glancing at a silent, expectant Fat Lady. He couldn't remember the password and his attempts, once again, to dissect the Hermione memory were not going to get him into the tower. When he had almost resigned himself to a night outside, the Fat Lady sighed. 

"Now, now my dear. You **aren't** doing well, are you? Get some sleep." The portrait swung open, and Harry, a little surprised at her blatant disregard for Hogwarts' rules, stumbled through.

After making his way to his dormitory and disrobing, he climbed into bed, trying to remember what he had been thinking about before the Fat Lady had let him in.

In spite of his fear of nightmares, he felt himself slipping into sleep and he allowed it to happen. Although the last few nights of solid, dreamless sleep had done him good, his exhaustion was still too much to bear.

He had almost fallen asleep - almost - when he remembered what he had seen in the corridor so many weeks ago. Suddenly his emotions made sense. Suddenly, the constant bickering in Hogsmeade made sense. Ron knew, too.

Harry struggled to fight the sleep that was quickly overcoming him - he had to find Hermione, he had to tell her how he really felt … He had to tell her that he loved her, that he always had, and that nothing mattered unless it was her. Surely, she would respond in kind. Surely, she would leave Draco Malfoy for him.

But the sleep came then, before he could rise or speak, engulfing his vision and his thoughts in quiet darkness.

***

Ron sat quietly by the fire in the common room the following day, not entirely intent on attending dinner. Sunday had been uneventful, to say the least. Hermione had studiously avoided him all day, which was alright as he hadn't been in the mood for a confrontation. He had been thinking.

He had been thinking about the slow destruction of their friendship. 

He had been thinking about Harry's lack of memory and focus.

He had been thinking about Harry's nightmares. 

He had been thinking about Hermione's relationship with Draco.

He had been thinking about Hermione's thirst for learning.

He had been thinking about what Dumbledore had said.

He had been thinking about what Hermione had said.

He had been thinking that he shouldn't have told Dumbledore anything.

And now… Now he was thinking about what he had told Dumbledore. Now he was thinking not only of Hermione's story, or Harry's problems, but of his own offer. Now he was thinking that it wasn't exactly the best idea he had ever had.

And tomorrow he would find out if Dumbledore agreed.

***

Hermione yawned and glanced out the window next to her bed, her hopeful eyes searching yet again for an owl from Draco. He had cancelled their meeting tonight, and she had sent him a return owl, begging him for at least a short meeting. She had even offered a change of location. She had suggested sneaking into the library. She thought that perhaps some nostalgia would do them good.

He had not responded.

Despondently, she sighed and gathered some scrolls. She couldn't sit here, sadly staring out the window and waiting for an answer that would never come. She had to get out of here. She had been trapped in her room all day with her thoughts and guilt over last night's events. The scene in Hogsmeade determinedly repeated itself in her mind. She had stopped crying about it hours ago, but it didn't make her feel any less… horrible.

What was worse was that part of her _didn't_ feel bad about what happened. Part of her was proud of the fact that she had been powerful enough to perform the spell. Part of her liked the way that power felt when she had exercised it. Part of her… part of her wouldn't mind using that particular spell again sometime.

She decided that it was time to visit the Restricted Section again.

She made it to the library easily. The past few months of sneaking out to meet Draco had prepared her well. The wards protecting it from late-night visitors were not exactly complicated either. She supposed they were really there for first and second years. Quietly, she strolled towards the red rope in the back, walking only in the shadows of the bookcases.

After confidently (and perhaps a bit arrogantly) setting down her materials on the main table of the Restricted Section and lighting a small bluebell flame for reading light, she turned to the section on the History of the Dark Arts. 

She certainly didn't expect to find Draco Malfoy staring back at her.

***

"Hello, Hermione."

She gasped, attempting to step back and instead bumping into the table she had just turned from. "D-Draco? I … I thought you said…. You said tonight was off…"

He smiled and stepped towards her, closing the space between them. She could feel his breath on her neck. "Oh… But your owl was so… convincing…"

He smiled and pulled back, enjoying the way she had reacted to his whisper. She was leaning towards him a bit now, he was sure it was subconscious, and her eyes were slightly more closed. When she didn't formulate a response, he reached a hand up to her hair and toyed with the thick, wild, curls. "I only cancelled so that you could have… a night off… I hate to take up all of your time… And after you spent this Saturday with the not-so-dynamic duo, I thought you might still want to catch up with them. Perhaps they inspired some nostalgia for days of old in you?"

Hermione returned to the waking world with a wrinkled nose and a shake of her head. Her hairs were still standing on end from his breath caressing her skin, and she didn't trust herself to speak. She wasn't sure what would happen if he moved any closer. As if he could read her mind, he stepped towards her again. Before she could decide how to react, he leaned forward, past her, and extinguished her bluebell flame. She could now only see him in the few bands of moonlight that crept their way into the darkened, windowless, Restricted Section. His hair acted as a reflector to it, providing them with a little more light.

As she was contemplating how good it would feel to touch that reflective hair, he closed the last bit of space between the two of them, pressing his body against hers, and found her lips with his. Oh, Merlin, did that feel amazing…me 

When they pulled away for air, his lips contorted into a smirk. He cleared his throat and leaned towards her to whisper in her ear again.

"Are you ready?"

She didn't have to ask for what. His body had already told her. She knew hers would respond willingly. The only thing holding her back was…

What was holding her back? She loved him. She wanted him. 

She let out a deep breath and bit her lip. She had been through so many inner struggles and contemplation over the matter of sex. Her morals reflecting it had changed so many times, but with each new decision came a new clear, logical stance of how and why she should or should not. 

But now, here, every ounce of logic in her had fled. This was not a removed, indifferent situation.

She took a deep breath and met his eyes, which had been carefully fastened on her since his question.

"I… have you done this before?"

Draco's cheeks flushed a little, but he maintained her gaze. "Well… no."

She tried to hide her relieved smile, but she was sure that he had caught it.

She was still processing this new information when he leaned forward and began kissing her again, still thinking it over when his body pressed into hers, demanding access. 

But once his hands began to explore her body, once her robes were flung open and her skirt was pushed up… Once he had her propped up on the library table… just as he had the first time they'd kissed… Hermione could no longer think of anything except how much she wanted him.


	8. After Glow

Disclaimer: I have no claim on Harry Potter. Don't sue.

A/N: Thanks so much to Jennifer for her speed-beta! 

Thanks to the fantastic Chapter 7 reviewers; HardyGXtreme, Hopeless Romantic, Midnight Rose, FEAngel258, Blanche Dubois, me, Kou Shun'u (I hope that the next few chapters take the ease off of your curiosity ;) ). You all flatter me so. Thanks for making my day. J 

***

"Humans have a knack for choosing precisely the things that are worst for them."  
- Albus Dumbledore 

Ron swallowed hard and approached the gargoyle. He hadn't even made it through Herbology, his first class, before he had been summoned to Dumbledore's office. Now he would know. He wasn't so sure he wanted to, but now he would know if he would live or die. 

The gargoyle moved aside, revealing the escalator. It was as if his very presence was a password.

When he reached the office, he was surprised to find that he and the headmaster were not alone. Severus Snape glared at him from his post by Dumbledore's desk, and Avery glanced tiredly out the window.

"Ron! Come, sit."

Ron nodded his greeting at the headmaster and approached the cushy chintz chair that had just appeared for him. He took a deep breath and sat gingerly on the edge of the seat, awaiting the verdict. It took several minutes of silence for his patience to run out. He cleared his throat.

"Sir?"

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling lightly at Ron, and he leaned back in his seat, pushing his fingertips together across his chest. "Ah, but we're not all here just yet, Mr. Weasley."

As if he had been awaiting this very sentence for his dramatic entrance, Sirius Black swept in through the doorway Ron had just passed through, morphing quickly from his Padfoot form into one of a gaunt, sharply alert young man.

Ron had turned to the door at the noise this entrance created, and couldn't suppress the grin that swept over his features. 

Sirius smiled in return, and, reaching Ron's side, patted his shoulder. "Alright, Ron?"

The yes halted on Ron's lips and he turned to Dumbledore, his look clearly begging the question, '_Am_ I alright?'

Dumbledore took a deep breath and leaned forward, removing his half-moon spectacles and rubbing his eyes. Fawkes appeared suddenly on his shoulder.

"Ron, as courageous and incredible as the sacrifice you are willing to make is, I cannot allow you to throw your life to the winds of caution… just yet…"

The sudden growth of tension in the air told Ron that he was not the only one who was surprised at the headmaster's decision. Sirius' hand found Ron's shoulder again and he could feel the relief surging through Harry's godfather at the news. Snape and Avery, on the other hand, were very much unsettled.

"Headmaster, I must-"

"But, Albus, honestly you can't-"

Dumbledore held up one of his well-weathered hands to silence them.

"If you'd allow me to finish…." The now spectacled gaze found everyone in the room. Sirius' grip tightened on Ron's shoulder.

"There is absolutely no way Ron could fool Voldemort into believing in his loyalty at this point. Voldemort is no fool. He'll see quite clearly through the veil of Ron's newfound allegiance, and will know almost instantly that he is a spy," Dumbledore paused, regarding Ron carefully, "and I daresay that Ronald Weasley deserves more in life than such an end."

Ron dropped his gaze towards the desk, feeling the hot threat of tears in his eyes.

"However…"

Ron's gaze shot up again, and Sirius' hand was now doing a fine job of imitating a tourniquet on his shoulder.

"I do think that, with the aid of Severus and Avery, our young Ron will be ready by next year… And although I'd like to think that the war will be over by then, I would not dare to allow such hope to impose on much-needed plans." 

Snape and Avery reluctantly agreed to this, but Sirius remained oddly quiet. He didn't actually speak until Dumbledore was escorting the two from his office. Ron had attempted to follow the three when Sirius hastily tugged the back of Ron's robes, jerking him back towards the headmaster's desk.

"Ron, can I have a word?"

Ron found Sirius' unnecessary question amusing, but caught himself before he revealed this in his facial expression. He nodded somberly and waited.

Sirius sighed and ran a hand through his hair, simultaneously pulling it out of his face. "I'm worried about you. About what this year will bring." Sirius paused, and Ron waited, unsure of whether or not this was his cue to begin comforting speech.

"And…. And I'm extremely worried about Harry. Dumbledore informed me of his recent…er… sickness." Sirius looked positively disgusted, and Ron didn't doubt that he was imagining particular individuals who could take the blame for Harry's condition. Sirius sighed again, and then turned his gaze quickly to the boy in front of him - so quickly, in fact, and intensely, that Ron felt as though he would be knocked off of his feet. 

"Ron, tell me, how is he? Has there been any difference? Has he confided anything in you? Have you noticed any suspicious behavior in others? Please, consider the staff and the students."

Ron swallowed, wilting slightly under the intense gaze of Sirius' fatherly, righteous anger and concern. It was at times like these that Ron could see the escaped convict in the man. His mind almost made the jump subconsciously, flashing back to the memorable image of a crazed man holding a knife over him in his sleep. 

It was at times like these that Ron could understand how Sirius made the first successful escape from Azkaban, and, at the same time, it was at times like these that Ron could see just how much damage Azkaban had done Sirius. After twelve years of a depressing, dark, existence as a falsely accused murderer, having love, friendship and all else that is good in the world sucked from you, kept from you, while experiencing nothing but the worst memories of your life…. After twelve years of not living… Without having the _luxury_ of being dead… Of simply _dying_, dying for twelve years and never being allowed to live or to truly die… After twelve years, to be free - to be a father figure to the son of the man who had essentially been your brother… To love another being after twelve years of mourning… To finally escape the clutches of Azkaban and what Ron was sure was Sirius' worst memory - Lily and James' death - and find another soul who had suffered as a result of those deaths… To find love in the face of the sadness and despair their deaths had brought the man. Ron could understand how passionately Sirius loved Harry, and how fiercely he would protect him. Harry was Sirius' life. Harry was what made it _living_. Ron understood this, and he understood, finally, that he was the reason for all of it. Sirius would fight for Harry until his dying day.

He wondered, momentarily, if Harry knew how much his godfather loved him. He blinked back tears as he realized that Harry probably didn't know much of anything right now. He wondered if Sirius' fight would be in vain… He found himself wondering, morbidly, what would happen to Sirius if Harry _died_.

Ron bit his lip, banishing such thoughts, and forced himself to meet Sirius' gaze. "I… er… Well… " His mind flew over _anything_ he could tell Sirius. Just _something_ that would be encouraging. Some ray of light. He focused all his energy on remembering. _Were there any times when Harry seemed better? _He considered this for a while before he realized the truth. His eyes must have betrayed his surprise, and as he spoke and things linked more smoothly in his mind, he hoped they did not show the utter hopelessness and dread that such a realization brought on.

"There was… well… Hermione… He…He seems better sometimes… Sometimes when she's there…" He swallowed and shot his gaze to his feet, praying that Sirius didn't catch the negative aspect of this news. The headmaster's voice chimed in at precisely that moment.

"Well, we'll certainly need to look into that, now won't we?"

Ron nodded and swallowed, looking up to meet the headmaster's knowing gaze. He wasn't sure what Dumbledore expected him to do, but if Hermione was what Harry needed…

Dumbledore spoke again, interrupting his thoughts. "If you'll excuse us, Ronald, I need a few words with Sirius myself. If you should find Harry with some spare time on his hands today, please send him up. I'm sure Snuffles will be willing to hang around for awhile."

Ron nodded, waved his goodbye to a distracted looking Sirius, and shuffled from the office.

***

Draco scowled at the scene that greeted him in the courtyard. She was still attempting to keep up appearances, apparently. The clumsy footfalls that echoed his own reminded him that he was no different. He sighed and strolled towards the trio, Crabbe and Goyle following closely in his wake.

Hermione, very ill at ease around her fellow Housemates after Saturday night, had decided that it would be best to make some sort of truce with Ron. There had been minimal sputtering of pumpkin juice over breakfast Monday morning and she had calmly followed him and Harry to the courtyard during their morning break. She arranged herself and her studies carefully on the grass by the pair as they heatedly discussed some Quidditch matter or another.

The drawling, familiar voice met her ears before she could prepare herself, and she shivered, remembering the things it had said to her last night.

"Potter, Weasley, another lover's quarrel?"

She stole a glance at his snarling face. He looked distinctly pained this morning as he spoke. She noted how carefully he avoided her gaze.

Harry dazedly turned to face Draco, and Ron sighed deeply, as if he was being forced to deal with people miles below his level of intellect. Hermione was suddenly strongly reminded of Percy.

"Malfoy, get lost."

Draco raised an eyebrow, as if he was surprised at Ron's somewhat civilized response, but Hermione now knew him well enough to recognize what truly lay behind those eyes. He wasn't up to speed this morning. He didn't _have_ any insults for Ron - and Hermione realized with a great deal of shock that he didn't seem to _care_ about Ron anymore. There was no dislike in his eyes, only indifference. She wondered where all of the passionate anger had gone.

She was so lost, in fact, in her thoughts that she failed to take note of Harry's reaction to Draco's appearance. An odd sort of dawning appeared in his facial expression, and with the speed of waking from a deep sleep, he gathered his emotions and senses into a passionate movement towards Draco and heartfelt dialogue to match.

"You - you bastard! You don't deserve her! You'll never - you can't - I want - she doesn't - aargh!"

Harry's attempts at forming coherent speech from his thoughts were conceded in a violent swing at Draco's face. Draco, although appearing entirely caught off guard, managed to duck out of the way just in time, and Hermione shot up from her grassy seat, attempting to calm Harry and instead receiving a blow to the nose from one of his flailing limbs. She shrieked and clutched at her face with her hand, falling away from Harry. 

At her scream, several things occurred simultaneously. Draco froze, looking to Hermione, and forgot to dodge Harry's fists. Harry's right hook met with Draco's left temple before he realized what the shriek had signified and he too froze, turning around to face her. Draco, being temporarily knocked off his feet, was unable (and perhaps unwilling, in any case) to prevent Crabbe and Goyle from taking up his fight with Harry. 

Ron watched, in dumbstruck horror, as blood began to flow from underneath Hermione's hands, steadily darkening the white collar of her shirt to a deep shade of red, as Draco flew backwards from the blow Harry had delivered, and as Goyle and Crabbe began to charge Harry from behind…

Ron's hand flew to his wand, but before he could even lay his fingers on the cool willow, he heard Hermione's shouts, much less frightened or fragile this time, and watched Crabbe and Goyle fly back several yards, landing hard on their head and backside, respectively.

Blood still streaming down her face and into the shirt beneath her robes, she dove towards Harry, muttering nothing that Ron could make out. He watched her wand emit a series of colored sparks as she spoke and in a matter of seconds, Harry began to sit upright, shaking himself. Expecting her to turn the next bit of healing magic to herself, he was surprised to watch her turn instead to the spot Malfoy had occupied moments earlier… only he was no longer there. 

He watched, quietly, as a battle for tears raged within her eyes and when he could no longer bear the pain that they expressed, he turned his attention to Harry and the professors that were quickly approaching. She really was in love with him…Upon this realization, Ron decided that he would no longer push the issue of Draco Malfoy with Hermione. As much as it pained him to accept, he finally understood that if it came down to a choice between them - if it was his friendship or Malfoy - she would run to the snarky blonde and never turn back.

***

After a frivolous trip to the hospital wing, Hermione Granger made her way to the dungeons. Her thoughts were racing furiously, but seemed to center around the same, repeating sentiment. 'Enough of all of the bullshit. I'm not going to play games anymore. I'm not going to hide things anymore. This is getting ridiculous.'

Although her nose was still a little sore from the second-rate healing spell she'd used to mend the broken bone and bruised cartilage, her anger wouldn't allow her a second to feel any self-pity. 

'Just who does he think he is? He's the one who suggested the Charms' classroom for meetings in the first place - you'd think he'd want things kept quiet. So where does he get off acting as if _I've_ done something wrong, when all I'm doing is trying to keep up appearances?'

'Then again, maybe he's not upset. Maybe he had to leave for some other reason.'

In spite of herself, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt over her rush to Harry before Draco. 

"Hermione!"

Oh, fate was playing some cruel jokes today. She turned slowly, meeting the green, bespectacled eyes of the boy rushing towards her. She smiled slightly, and he stopped short in front of her, gasping for air. He must have been quite some ways behind her.

"Hermione - I -" Harry paused, taking a deep breath. 

She reached out and gingerly patted him on the shoulder. "It's okay, Harry. I'm in no hurry. I won't go running off."

Slightly out of her current range of focus, she noted a red-headed boy rushing towards them. 'Oh, Lord yes. Let's get the whole of Gryffindor House to congregate on the steps to the dungeons, shall we?' She frowned and turned her attention back to Harry, a determined glint in his eyes. Finally having caught his breath, he began to speak just as Ron reached the pair of them.

"Hermione. I love you. I know about - about you and Draco. But… But I love you. I always have."

Harry blushed and instantly turned his gaze to his feet. Ron's mouth dropped open in a not-so-carefully disguised display of shock, and a look of alarm spread to his eyes as his gaze swept to Hermione.

Hermione realized her own mouth was slightly agape, and amended the situation by stepping forward and taking Harry into a gentle embrace. He responded eagerly, at first, but then relaxed into a comfortable hug. She pulled away to find that Harry had regained his unfocused look, and when she looked to Ron to acknowledge this, she found a very red Ron shuffling his feet and carefully inspecting the opposite side of the stairwell. She laughed.

"Ron, come here."

She pulled Ron into a quick, tight hug and was turning back to a rather dazed Harry when she heard the drawling voice.

"If you wouldn't mind moving this nauseating display to your _own_ tower, I'd appreciate it. It's bad enough that I have to see any of you _alone_, _during the day_, but to invade into my free time with an orgy in my living space is really quite inconsiderate."

Hermione didn't know she could spin so quickly. Had she not felt such a strong rush of anger, she would have been proud that she hadn't fallen from such a fast movement. When she met his eyes, she found what had been missing earlier that day. There was no mistaking the passionate anger in those gray eyes, but there was something else. Something that looked a great deal like… jealousy?

Her gritted teeth loosened as this realization hit her, making her speech much less confident than she would have liked.

"Draco."

He rolled his eyes, focusing his stare on the opposite wall and sighed. "Yes, Granger. I hate to add to your know-it-all complex, but you're right, once again."

Her eyes narrowed and she felt the anger creeping back. Jealousy was one thing, but acting like a prat because of it was entirely different. She had done nothing to warrant such cold remarks. She moved down the stairs, coming as close to him as she dared, until she could feel his breath on her neck - until she was sure that he couldn't ignore her.

"Draco, what the hell is your problem?"

It had been in a whisper, but he reacted as though she had screamed it. He glared at her (although she noted that he did nothing to remove them from the rather close proximity she had put them in) and then at Harry and Ron.

"I suppose I'm just disgusted at the amount of time you three spend together," he motioned with his head towards the boys, as if she needed reminding. "I guess I'm just wondering what's going on with-" 

He stopped himself short, but she knew perfectly well what the next word through his gritted teeth would have been. She had been right - there had been jealousy in those now cold eyes.

She sighed and wrapped her arms around Draco's neck, allowing her weight to fall against him, but hesitated to allow her lips the same comfort. Draco didn't respond, but she felt his shoulders loosen, and noticed the movement his arms made towards her that he had so carefully tried to disguise as a shrug. He cleared his throat.

"Draco. Stop being so ridiculous. Obviously, there's nothing. It's just you…" Hermione smiled as his gaze softened, his eyes widening slightly in surprise and he allowed himself to lean into her. Their lips had almost met when she pulled away, abruptly. "But if you ever act like such a prat with me again, it won't be."

He opened his mouth, perhaps to defend himself, but thinking better of it, he closed it again and nodded, shooting a fierce, defiant gaze in Ron and Harry's direction that clearly said, 'if either of you breathe a word of this interaction to anyone, I'll kill you'. 

Hermione turned back to a still-dazed Harry and an oddly bemused-looking Ron. Before she could say anything to either of them, Ron turned his attention to her.

"Sorry Hermione, but we've got to go. I'll see you later, yea?"

Without waiting for her response, Ron spun on his heel, tugging Harry along with him.

***

Lucius Malfoy was not pleased. Normally, being called was only a slight inconvenience, accompanied by a rather irritating pain in the forearm. The entire process, however, took on a whole new dimension when the Dark Lord was angry.

So, the stupid little Mudblood had killed Nott. Certainly displeasing to Lord Voldemort. What interested Lucius, however, was how she had chosen to do so. She had used the killing curse. Of all of the defenses she could have used… After all, she obviously had no problem with what Lucius assumed was a rather weak Imperius if she had managed to kill the man. He was certain that Nott hadn't ordered that.

And, as if losing a follower wasn't bad enough, the Dark Lord had been shown up by a _sixteen-year- old_ _Mudblood_. And Voldemort had wanted Granger because of some link with Potter. So, yet another reason for him to be upset. A Mudblood had killed one of his followers and thrown an obstacle in the way of his plans.

He sighed, rubbing his still-pained forearm and stalked into the library, slamming the door behind him. He had never liked the Gryffindor Mudblood. Not since she had first bested his son in academics, five years ago. How dare a girl of dirty blood show up the pride of the Malfoy family?

He grimaced and reminded himself that he would be able to unleash this anger soon. The Dark Lord informed him that he had sent Draco the owl, and had instructed Lucius to succeed where Nott had failed. He would not let his Lord down. Oh no. And Draco would soon be able to assist his father. She would pay. She would pay dearly with her dirty blood. 

***

"Draco. Wait. I don't understand. Please…"

He continued his pacing and savagely flipped his hair with his hand before answering her through clenched teeth. 

"You. Can't. Understand. Leave it alone, Granger."

She cast her gaze towards the floor. He was calling her Granger again. She allowed herself to sulk over this for a few moments before the words sunk in and made her indignant. Why couldn't she understand? What was it that was so above her?

Draco had stopped pacing. She looked up to find that he was watching her. She took a deep breath, lifted her eyebrows and folded her arms. He was not going to make her feel inferior.

Draco rubbed his face roughly before approaching her. "God, Hermione. I really can't do this tonight. This has nothing to do with you, okay? But let's just say that I have a 'project' due tomorrow, and call it even."

With that said, he turned from her and exited the classroom.

*** 

Hermione yawned and glanced again at the clock.

Waiting to sleep was bad enough, but pretending to be asleep made it almost impossible to stay awake.

Would they ever go to sleep? Judging from the incessant giggling, she doubted it.

It was at moments like this that Harry's invisibility cloak would come in handy.

But no. She really couldn't. She couldn't tell him why she needed it, especially after his admission in the dungeons today… and he would surely want to know. He'd have a right to know.

But it would make things so much easier… Maybe just this once.

With that thought in mind, Hermione slipped quietly out of bed and padded from her dormitory to the common room. He was still there, of course, in front of the fire.

"Harry?"

He started at her voice. She supposed she had been a little too quiet. That and his unnatural fascination with the flames.

"Y-yes? Hermione?"

"I was wondering..." and then she actually saw him. She saw the lost, frightened little boy that he had always been. She saw the brave, stoic child that had clung desperately to the cloak his father had left him. She noticed how, when his eyes focused on her, they spelled nothing but love. She saw how much of a betrayal it would be to take the cloak, and, for the first time since she had begun her lessons, she truly understood how much she was betraying him, even without the cloak.

***

Hermione paused in her pacing to glance out the window. She wondered if he had received her owl. It bothered her immensely that he had blown off the earlier meeting and now that she was here, she wondered if he would show.

"Hermione."

She turned and gave a weak smile at his arrival. Draco nodded. "What's wrong?"

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "I feel like such an imbecile, especially now. Especially after what just happened…"

She paused in her speech, unsure of whether or not she should really tell him what realization Harry's reaction had brought her.

Draco raised an eyebrow and glanced behind him. "Care to explain?"

"It's… It's…well… first it was you and now Harry."

Draco took a few steps towards her. "What? What are you talking about?"

She took a deep breath. "Earlier, you were so upset… And you acted like I wasn't capable of understanding whatever it was that was bothering you. And then you just blew me off. And I thought I was okay with that… But I wasn't. And so the whole point of this was to talk to you about that, and I knew it was late and I really didn't want to get caught and in spite of it all, it's still slightly unnerving to sneak around and…"

Draco waited for a few moments, watching her. "And? And what?"

"I went to ask Harry if I could borrow his cloak."

Draco cursed under his breath and turned away from her. "Let me guess… you went to get his cloak and your conscience stepped in and suddenly 'oh I'm a horrible person, look what I'm doing.'"

Hermione glared at the back of his head. "Maybe if you had a conscience or a heart of any kind, you would understand."

She had never seen him move so quickly. Suddenly, he was facing her, mere centimeters from her face. "Don't you ever dare talk to _me_ about having either of those. You have _no_ idea… You don't know me at all. And I'm sorry that I can't sympathize with you… that I wasn't raised in some sheltered, middle class _Muggle _home. Emotions aren't things I like to broadcast to the world, you self-righteous bitch."

Hermione's mind raced across her possible reactions to this statement. She wanted to hurt him now. Oh how she wanted to hurt him. Yelling back would put him in the right. Crying would prove how easily she showed her feelings. She decided on a calm, collected acceptance.

"Bravo. Nicely done. I come to you, upset at the way you're treating me and the way I'm treating Harry. Yes, I pour my heart out to you – the one person I can talk to about this. And how do you answer me? You try to hurt me more. You astound me, Draco Malfoy. No, I guess I don't know you. And I don't know that I want to anymore."

She turned from him then, and attempted to stroll gracefully from the classroom. She was almost through the doorway, almost to the point where she would completely forsake their relationship… when she heard him.

"I'm sorry."

***

Hermione stopped but didn't turn at first. Finally, after several minutes and a few deep breaths, when she was sure that she could remain composed, she turned and faced him.

"Come, sit," he paused for a moment and when she didn't obey he added, tentatively, "please?"

Slowly, Hermione walked to a desk near him and leaned against it. She refused to look at him, opting instead to examine her hands.

"I… I …don't know where to begin. I don't know how much I should… how much I can tell you."

She nodded in response but didn't look up.

"Alright… First off… I'm not doing this… this thing… to Harry for my own sadistic pleasure."

Her eyebrows and her gaze shot up.

He sighed and turned away from her. "I don't really give a damn about him either way, to tell you the truth."

She waited.

"I… Well… Okay… I've been where you are right now. I've been there. I wanted power. I wanted knowledge. I wanted to learn this magic." He paused and turned towards her, but his eyes were downcast. "My mother would never let my father teach me anything regarding the Dark Arts. I've never really been allowed to discuss them with him… To discuss his… His hobbies… So I had to find another teacher." He sighed and glanced up at her before returning his gaze to the floor.

"Only I didn't… I didn't choose my teacher very well." At this, he sat down on the floor of the classroom and began tracing designs on the stone tiles. She didn't know if he would speak again. When he did, his voice sounded choked.

"Only the best for the Malfoys, you know…" He smiled a very fake, very facetious smile. "I got lessons from Voldemort himself."

It was then that he looked up at her, nothing but pain etched in his icy blue gaze. "Hermione… I… He… It wasn't what it should have been at all. He didn't teach me so much as he used me for his own gain. But I was desperate. I was sure…" he paused and laughed very hollowly, very coldly, "I was sure that I was beating him at his own game… that I would learn something from everything he made me do, regardless of what that something was."

She bit her lip. He nodded as if she had spoken her inner anguish. "You don't beat the Dark Lord. Not at anything. Not unless you wear a cute little scar across your forehead."

He sighed. "Which brings us to the subject at hand. Voldemort had assured me that this… this thing with Harry would be my last mission. I was supposed to be done after this, done with these lessons. These last two years of lessons… I was finally going to be my own man. I was going to use what I learned for what I wanted to use it for. And today I got an owl…"

He paused and rubbed his eyes. She could tell by the terrible pitch of his voice that he wanted to cry. 

"I'm supposed to receive the dark mark next weekend. Voldemort wants me as one of his… his pathetic spineless followers… This… this was never part of the deal… but I'm not nearly powerful enough to go against him, and once he has his sights set on you, you have one option."

He was silent for a few moments before adding, "…well… two if you count death."

Hermione couldn't believe the resignation in this boy she had always thought to be so self-assured and strong. "But… Draco… You're not just giving up?"

He looked up at her again. "Yes. I am. What else do you propose I do?"

She sighed and began pacing the room. 

He took a deep breath a reached out a hand to stop her. "Look, I want to show you something." Picking up his wand, he wrote his name very carefully in the air, the D and the M glowing especially brightly. As she watched, the letters following the initials changed… first to Dark Magic and then to Dark Mark.

She gasped, a little surprised.

He nodded and waved at the letters again, making them disappear. "I know it's really silly and probably insignificant, it's just… It's just like the final icing on the cake. This is what I'm supposed to be."

She shook her head fervently. "No. You can go on your own. You shouldn't need anyone else. You're so much stronger than that." Tears were creeping into her speech.

Draco sighed and stood up, pulling her into a tight hug. She had forgotten how amazing it felt to be in his arms. She never wanted to pull away. She stayed there, gripping him tightly, and focused her gaze determinedly at the floor, as if staring it down would make Draco change his mind… As if his decision would be swayed by how long she kept him in the classroom. 

One of the floor tiles began to glow, and she gasped, remembering how it had happened before. Draco pulled away quickly, his eyes full of concern.

"What?"

She pointed at the tiles and as his gaze swung to the several now-brightly glowing squares, she muttered, "It's happening again".

Draco's stare shot quickly to her face, his eyes full of shock. He grabbed her shoulders, a little roughly, and continued to stare at her intensely. "You… you did that? Without a wand? And you've done it before?"

A little frightened by his intensity, she nodded, biting her lip. Draco cursed and released her, muttering things she couldn't quite make out under his breath.

"Draco… Please tell me… What? What's happening?"

He stalked back towards her, running a hand absently through his hair, and sighed. "It's actually pretty logical. Think about it. When could you do wandless magic before? When you couldn't control it, before you learned how to direct it - before you got a wand." He paused and watched her. She bit her lip and tried desperately to make the link he obviously expected her to make.

"Hermione… the Dark Arts… Well... They make you a great deal more powerful. Why do you suppose Slytherin has such a," he muttered something under his breath that could have been 'bigoted-Gryffindor' and continued, "...reputation for being involved with the Dark Arts? We're ambitious. We are sorted into Slytherin accordingly. Only the Pure, only the cunning, only the ambitious best."

Hermione waited for him to continue, but he seemed lost in his thoughts now, staring off into space. She cleared her throat and he swung his focus back to her.

"The point is, learning the Dark Arts makes you more powerful. I suppose you could follow the old 'knowledge is power' adage, but personally I think it has more to do with gaining such godlike powers as the ability to take life, to control another life… to bring people back to life…" He grimaced and rubbed his forehead. "And, Hermione, you have gained a great deal of power in a very short period of time. The problem here is that you lack control. You're like a first year who could pass every written OWL and NEWT, but wouldn't be able to perform _Winguardium Leviosa_ if your life depended on it. I've moved you much too fast, and done nothing but make you dangerous and given you knowledge you can't use."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "But… but I've been able to perform every spell I've tried! I must be able to control it… Nothing's happened. Why should I be worried about some rubbish like glowing tiles?"

Draco scowled. "Alright, so I didn't use the best analogy. You're more like a pre-first year who knows the material but can't be blamed when he gets angry at dinner one night and his sister's water glass explodes. You're dangerous, Hermione. You need to learn to direct the power you possess. You have to learn to temper your emotions. You've learned the magic, but now you need to learn _control._ It should have been the first thing I taught you but I… Well, I failed you." He sighed. "And I think we should call it a night. Think about what I've told you. Don't get angry. For the love of Merlin, don't get angry. Until tomorrow, love."

He stepped forward and kissed her, lightly, before turning on his heel and sweeping from the classroom.


	9. Mindgames

    Disclaimer: I have no claims whatsoever on Harry Potter. Or Draco Malfoy. Or Hermione Granger. Etc. Don't sue me.
    A/N: Don't kill me for the angst. I like Harry. Really I do.
    cowzr4ever - I feel as though I should apologize. I'm afraid you took my delayed response to your message as offense. I'm really glad that you told me what you did, however, as I didn't realize exactly the impression that Ch. 8 had given off. I will certainly amend it in this chapter.

Thanks, of course, to my wonderful reviewers… Serpena (glad to have you back), HardyGXtreme (thank you so much, I'm flattered!), angeL_1215 (thanks! Please email me if you are wondering about Harry… I'm not sure if it's the plot itself or something I wrote that doesn't make sense), varda (you're too kind. I hope you like the next chapter), Labyris (LoL. Certainly, there's more.), Blanche Dubois (eep… Sorry… I may post a different scenario I had considered as an outtaken scene.), dracoluva99 (I want you to know how greatly I appreciated your review. I really want to be a writer. Thank you.), yummyjajangmyun (thank you so much! Character development/in character writing is very important to me, and it's nice to get positive feedback on it), FEAngel258 (thanks! I hope you enjoy chapter 9!), and last but not least, Kou Shun'u (thank you so much! I hope I didn't create more questions than I answered lol. And... er… I hope you like this chapter…Please let me know.).

Alright, I may start answering reviews as a review myself. What do you guys think?

Anyway, here's the chapter. Please enjoy.

Much props to my awesome beta Jennifer.

***

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us." 

- Nelson Mandela

Harry remembered seeing Sirius. And he remembered Sirius crying. And that made him want to cry, in spite of the fact that he had no idea why he had been crying.

He kept focusing his thoughts, attempting to bring back the memory, but he couldn't. Each time he tried, he just regained the emotions he had experienced. He kept experiencing the sensation of watching his godfather cry. And he couldn't think of anything that he would like to feel less.

He sighed, rolling over to face Ron's bed. He hated to do it… but he had to know.

"Ron?"

His roommate started, completely caught off guard at Harry's call. "Yea?"

Harry's voice dropped to a whisper, out of some reverence for Sirius' secrecy. "What happened with… with Snuffles…?"

There was a long silence from the other bed and Harry wondered wildly if Ron had fallen asleep.

"…You don't remember?"

Harry bit his lip, a little frustrated at this unhelpful response. "Well, obviously not. I'd hardly be asking if I did."

He heard Ron sigh and, a few moments later, he felt the mattress underneath him shift as Ron took a seat on his bed. 

"Oh, Harry."

Ron rubbed his face carefully and drew one hand up to run it through his hair. Finally, he continued.

"Harry, you're… ill… Some one has put some sort of curse on you. You can't focus, you can't remember… You have terrible nightmares…You're steadily losing your abilities…And we can't get it to stop."

Harry felt a large knot growing in his chest. At the same time he had the odd sensation that this was a dream itself. He fought this sensation, focusing all his attention on what Ron had just told him. It was clear again. He was in his dorm. Ron was on his bed. This was real. But he had a funny feeling that he wouldn't know this in a few minutes.

"And… and Sirius… is he okay? He was crying, Ron."

Ron looked down at his feet before answering in a very low voice. "He was crying about you, mate."

***

Hermione had been thinking. How could she not, after all of the things Draco had told her the previous night? In any case, she was ready for him when he entered the Charms classroom that night.

"Why isn't there a way to perform _controlled_ wandless magic? It follows that if you have enough power and control, you should be able to simply use your hands, does it not?"

Draco laughed. "At least let me get both feet inside the room, Hermione."

He strolled up to her, pulling her to him easily into a very hungry kiss. When he finally pulled away, somewhat satiated, he smiled. "A 'nice to see you' would do just fine right about now."

She grinned sheepishly. "Nice to see you."

He cleared his throat and took a seat on a desk. "Yes. Yes, controlled wandless magic is possible. But not for every one. For a very select few, actually. It requires a great deal of both power and restraint, each of which is rather talented at overwhelming the other. To find the right balance is extremely difficult." He paused and glanced at her, probably noticing the wheels turning in her head for the first time. "And to experiment with finding the balance is _extremely_ dangerous."

She had the decency to look mildly surprised. "Why? What can happen?"

Draco sighed and pushed himself off of the desk, moving towards her. "I should have never brought this up. But, just as well… Tonight we work on..." he paused, leaning forward until his breath tickled the inside of her ear and allowed his body to press into hers, "…Control," he finished, pulling away abruptly.

She glared at him, angry for producing the reaction he had counted on. But she could hardly help remembering… And her body certainly wouldn't forget, even if she tried to.

"You didn't answer my question."

Draco smiled at her evident irritation. She was so cute when she was angry. He sighed and relented. 'Hell, she knows everything else. She thinks she does, anyway. Not that that's any different.'

"Hermione, think about it. What could possibly go wrong when you are simultaneously summoning a great deal of power, not using your wand, and concentrating all of your focus on this power in an attempt to control it?"

"Erm…"

She felt herself flush. Sure, it _sounded_ like it was an obviously bad idea, but what really _was_ wrong with it? Hermione didn't understand - surely, she'd be able to control it if she focused hard enough. When had she ever not been able to do something if she tried hard enough?

Draco watched her carefully, a dismal expression on his face. He sighed again.

"Don't, Hermione. Certainly not until you have the tile glowing under control."

She smiled, reached in her robes, pulled out her wand and set it on the desk. She then closed her eyes and held out her hands, imagining all of her energy flowing to her fingertips, imagining that same energy flowing to an exact glowing H shape on the floor, and picturing Draco's smiling face, shining with pride. She felt the energy surging through her hands, was overwhelmed by the sudden wave of power, deafened by the immense whooshing it made in her head, and couldn't have opened her eyes at that moment if her life depended on it. She was sure, however, that when she opened her eyes, she would see her H.

If her H was actually several tiles ripped from the floor in an odd zigzag shape, several desks knocked over and a shattered window, then yes, she saw her H. Draco rose shakily from an odd crouching position behind some desks in a far corner. He was angry. 

And, for the first time in her recollection, Hermione was afraid of him.

***

Draco had a bad feeling when she set her wand down. When she closed her eyes, he started toward her, stopped himself and was backing up as quickly as his legs would carry him when it seemed that the world had exploded. What he assumed to be a simple _lumos_ spell surged from her fingertips, seeming to snowball into a very destructive bolt of lightning. It ricocheted off of every surface, and Draco had just dived behind a desk in an attempt to avoid becoming one of those surfaces, when the desk he had hidden behind was hit and he was thrown even farther out of the way, the desk shoving him harshly into the wall.

Things finally stopped exploding and he heard her gasp. He looked up to find a very surprised Hermione. 'No way. You're surprised? You didn't mean to destroy everything in your path?'

The bitter sarcasm in his thoughts transferred easily to his face, as he gritted his teeth and pulled his aching body from his hiding place, hastily brushing debris from his robes and approached her. This was it. She hadn't taken him seriously, and she had just risked both of their lives in proving it to him.

He opened his mouth as he reached her, but stopped the angry words from tumbling out when he met her eyes. She flinched as though she was expecting him to hit her and every letter of her body language spelled fear.

It took every ounce of his restraint not to scream bloody murder at her, but he managed, somehow, to hold himself back. A little voice in the back of his head told him that it would be even sweeter if he managed to control himself when she obviously possessed no semblance of restraint.

He took several deep breaths before he broke out with a rather severe whisper.

"Do you realize how… how idiotic that was? How dangerous? You could have gotten us both killed! Not to mention expelled, if any professors happened to hear your little outburst."

Hermione's mouth made a small o. Apparently, the fact that they were in a _classroom_ hadn't occurred to her. Draco sighed and stepped away from her, waving his wand and muttering a few well-placed _Reparo_s. When the classroom at last looked as it had when they had first arrived, with the exception of a few moved desks, he returned to the gaping Gryffindor.

He had to get a little closer to realize that she was crying.

"Oh, Hermione. Come here." Without waiting for her response, he pulled her into a tight embrace, and, unlike the last time he had found himself comforting her, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

***

Ron had begged Dumbledore to change his mind. After sitting in the Headmaster's office, watching Harry and Sirius… Watching Sirius cry and Harry not notice… The worst had been looking at Dumbledore and seeing that the headmaster felt completely useless… The man most students put on par with God had no idea how to amend the situation. It made Ron crazy. He had to do _something_. He didn't want to wait a year.

Dumbledore had, finally, somewhat agreed after several hours of Ron's pleas. He had agreed tentatively, hinging it on whether or not Ron had mastered the art of controlling his thoughts and on how much the public perceived Ron as siding with Voldemort by the initiation date.

Ron had started straightaway, by publicly muttering unkind things about Harry and Dumbledore. He was still struggling with the issue of Purebloods/Muggleborns. He wasn't sure how drastically he could turn against everything he had ever stood for. 

He would be starting mind control lessons with Avery and Snape tomorrow. He had wondered, very bitterly, when Dumbledore had informed him of the lessons, how two spies who had been _discovered_ would be any use in training him at all. He had thought it best not to vocalize this question, however, and as a result he would be locked in a dungeon classroom with the surly pair tomorrow evening.

***

Hermione sighed and rubbed her eyes, furiously attempting to keep them open. It was well past curfew, well past any meeting time with Draco… But she wasn't ready for sleep yet. She was furious with herself for not succeeding in her attempt at wandless magic. She refused to sleep until she did succeed, but the chances of her control improving decreased with every not-so-waking moment. 

She had parted ways with Draco at the Charms' classroom, headed to Gryffindor Tower and doubled back, locking herself in the classroom once again. Several locking and silencing spells later, she began her practice. 

The room continually burst into shambles. She wondered how many times one could _Reparo_ something before it stopped being fixable. 

She bit her lip. With human beings… with love… there were only a set number…

She shook her head. Leave it to her to turn such a simple thought into one reflecting on life and the human condition at some god-forsaken early morning hour. Once again, she held out her hands, closed her eyes, concentrated her energy and mumbled "_lumos_". Once again she opened them, expecting to see complete devastation of the room.

She was pleasantly surprised to find that her fingers were lightly glowing. It certainly wasn't enough to read by, but they were definitely glowing. She felt the pride, exhaustion and happiness spread through her aching body, and before she realized what she had done, the tiles below her exploded into several hundred pieces. She ducked, throwing her hands up to block her face from the flying shrapnel and shrieked.

When the floor was peaceful rubble again, she rubbed her face, exasperated. So, apparently she couldn't allow herself to lose control of her emotions _at all_ when performing wandless magic. 

She would have to train herself to be cold.

***

Ron gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. It took every ounce of his self-control to keep from lashing out at the greasy-haired bastard.

They had been practicing for two hours now. These had been the longest, most irritating two hours of Ron's life. It had started with Avery and Snape switching off, each interrogating Ron with a series of rapid-fire questions, testing his endurance and his ability to lie.

Both had failed within the first fifteen minutes. They had since been discussing his strategy.

And now Ron sat in the uncomfortable, straight-backed chair Snape had so generously leant him, sweating bullets and fighting against the extreme headache that had been threatening to appear for the last hour.

"Weasley, we are going to do this again. We are going to do this until you can last longer than half an hour, until you can lie while believing it's the truth… until you can look me in the eye and convince me that you've switched to the Dark Side and you will promptly be having us all killed."

Ron took a deep breath and focused on Snape again. Avery was watching, an amused look on his face. It made Ron want to hit him as violently as possible. Snape began the questions again.

"Where do your loyalties lie?"

"The Dark Lord."

"When did you begin siding with the Dark Lord?"

"I'm a Pureblood who's proud of his bloodline-"

"I asked when, not why."

"Ever since I realized how pathetic both Dumbledore and Potter are."

"I'll ask you again. I don't like asking questions more than once. But I will ask you one last time. When did your loyalties switch to Lord Voldemort?"

"Last year."

"Well, you've done an excellent job of hiding it, haven't you?"

"I thought, sir, that it would be most prudent to continue to act as though my loyalties lay elsewhere, until I could contact you. I thought, perhaps, that by allowing my reputation to remain, I would be able to assist you more by having the confidence of those you fight against."

"Oh my, Mr. Weasley… Are you suggesting that you would spy for me?"

Ron swallowed. "If you should so desire, my Lord."

Snape grinned, evidently relishing playing the role of the Dark Lord. Ron felt his headache win the fight.

"And why, Mr. Weasley, should I trust that you are not spying on me, if you would so readily spy on the people who have supported you and trusted you your entire life?"

Ron swallowed, feeling his ears burning with embarrassment as he tried to think of an appropriate answer. He opened his mouth and closed it again. Finally, he answered.

"None would be so stupid, my Lord."

Snape grimaced and angrily shoved back the chair he had been sitting on. "Great, Weasley, except that you'd have been dead as soon as you paused. Not to mention the manner in which you were obviously searching for a good answer. If, Weasley, you had been telling the truth, you would not have had to search for a good answer. Voldemort is not stupid. Never underestimate his intelligence. The day you do will be your last."

Ron nodded his head, shooting his glance to the floor. He didn't think this session had lasted longer than five minutes.

***

Hermione quite expected Double Potions to be dreadful the following morning. She hadn't slept. By the time she'd returned to the common room, the sun was well on its way into the sky. But she _had_ performed a select few spells without a wand, despite her extreme fatigue. 

Surely, if she could manage spells in the midst of exhaustion, it would be easy when wide awake. Obviously, she wouldn't be able to test this theory today. She yawned.

She was walking to the dungeons alone this morning. Not feeling exactly hungry, she had begged off of breakfast and Ron and Harry had left her for the Great Hall. She hadn't objected a great deal. She needed the time to absorb everything that had happened in the past few days.

"Aw, look, Scarhead and the Weasel. Where's the terrible bucktoothed tiger? Awfully vulnerable without her, aren't you?" 

Hermione grimaced, pausing before she rounded the corner. She knew what scene would meet her eyes. Apparently, Pansy was still on level with third years, intellectually. With a heavy sigh, she began to move around the wall, pausing only when Draco's voice reached her.

"Parkinson, grow up."

She froze in shock. Her curiosity soon overtook her surprise, however, and her feet propelled her around the corner. She wasn't the only one Draco had surprised.

Ron and Pansy were both staring at him, unabashedly, with their mouths agape. Apparently, Harry hadn't noticed the entire interaction, as he was busy studying his feet. Hermione cleared her throat, but her opportunity at speech was stolen by the silky voice behind her.

"If you're quite done, Weasley, with causing a scene, I would like to begin my class."

Hermione took a deep breath and moved out of Snape's way. He swished past her, without so much as a word. Apparently today would be no different. He had been pretty much ignoring her since about fourth year, with the notable exception of reprimands. She had decided that it was due to his refusal to believe that a Gryffindor would possess any semblance of intelligence, and would just as soon pretend that she didn't exist. She didn't mind as much as she used to. At this point, as long as he continued handing her back flawless scrolls and exams, she didn't really give a damn if they never sat down for tea.

It was with this slightly defiant attitude that Hermione entered Professor Snape's classroom that morning.

***

Ron, still a little shocked over Draco's response to Pansy's taunting, didn't even think to be upset about Snape's obvious favoritism. Nudging Harry, he stumbled into the classroom, following the Slytherins. He hadn't noticed Hermione's arrival, and was surprised when he found himself seated next to her.

"Hullo."

She nodded her greeting, smiling slightly, and turned her attention back to the front of the classroom.

Ron sighed. He had to reach her. It was desperate now. At the same time, it was very complex. He was supposed to be siding with Voldemort now. By all rights, he shouldn't even be talking to her. On the other hand, if she was the key to helping Harry, he needed her desperately. He sighed.

Before he could give the matter another thought, Snape's voice resounded across the classroom.

"Today you will all be working with a very complex, very dangerous potion. Please at least make some attempt to not screw it up too terribly. " Snape glared at Ron. "The potion, as you can see if you are literate, is the obscurely known Aberro Potion. Can anyone tell me what it does?"

Ron squinted at the blackboard, where the details of the potion were written out, but couldn't make out what it did. Hermione had of course raised her hand. Snape was of course ignoring her.

Draco Malfoy raised his hand.

"Yes, Draco?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled her arm down as Draco began to speak, but Ron didn't miss the smile she'd tried to hide.

"The Aberro potion allows the drinker to… er… forget something for a short while. It is very handy for those undergoing interrogations, and as a tool in mind control, as the thoughts of the drinker are automatically diverted from whatever he wishes to keep hidden. Veritaserum can, in theory, eventually force the subject to remember what he took Aberro for, but in mixing the two potions, permanent memory loss and sometimes even death occur. The exact neutralizing combination has yet to be discovered."

Snape nodded, very pleased. "I am glad to know that one student in this classroom bothers to look over the material before class. Yes, you will all be working on Aberro today. Very carefully. I rarely allow sixth years this privilege. It will take a full two class periods to complete, and you will be working in pairs. At the end, we will be testing them. I advise you to use it against your most embarrassing secrets. Otherwise you may find yourself revealing all." Snape smiled, gave Ron an especially severe look, and took a seat behind his desk. 

He groaned. How on earth would he be able to block _all_ of his embarrassing moments?

***

Hermione gnawed on her lip in another futile attempt to concentrate on the potion and distract herself from Draco. She didn't want to give him that satisfaction. And she certainly didn't want to give Snape the satisfaction of an excuse to deduct more points from Gryffindor. Harry's incompetence today had already lost them enough.

"Potter!"

She sighed, wondering how on earth he could mess up the stirring required of this potion. She thought that surely, Ron would have taken over that part. 

"Speak to me after class."

Surprised, she glanced up at her Potions Master. She noticed an emotion most incongruent with his person. He looked deeply concerned.

Maybe Snape had a heart after all. She supposed that many people weren't what they seemed. Unconsciously, she glanced at Draco. He was watching her as well. When their eyes met, he smiled, winked, and returned to his potion.

With a deep blush, Hermione turned back to her potion and barely prevented Neville from adding the Lacewings too soon.

Now more resolute than ever, Hermione focused all of her attention on the potion, forcefully steering her thoughts away from Draco. She had a feeling this would be good practice for when she actually took the potion. He would certainly be one secret she'd want to keep.

***

Draco rubbed his eyes wearily as he entered the Great Hall for lunch that day. It was the first time he'd made it to lunch in quite sometime. He was almost relieved that Hermione had opted to call off today's study session. She seemed tired. Merlin knows he had exhausted himself in trying to keep his thoughts off of her in Potions. He assumed she was suffering the same version of exhaustion.

Draco sighed and fell very ungracefully into a seat at the Slytherin table. He had hardly had time to decide what he wanted to eat, however, when he noticed a familiar hawk heading his way. He swallowed. Somehow the very image of that hawk instilled a sense of foreboding in him.

When he untied the parchment from his leg, he knew he had good reason. 

__

Draco - 

As you have mentioned it repeatedly since your first year, I am confident in your hatred for this girl, so I feel very little apprehension in informing you of the actions we must take. My Lord, nay, our Lord, has assigned me a task that I will require your assistance on. We may not be able to cleanse all of Hogwarts, but the particular Mudblood in question has stepped far out of bounds. I believe you are familiar with Hermione Granger? I trust that I can depend on you, my son and only heir, to assist me in the task at hand. I will contact you with more information in a more discreet manner.

Faithfully yours,

Lucius Malfoy

Draco was at first simply astounded at his father's audacity. To send a letter so obviously tying him to not only the Dark Lord, but to the planning of a murder…

Draco shivered and glanced over at the Gryffindor table, where Hermione was currently resting her head on folded arms. Gods, he loved her. And she had no idea what threat lay before her. He had to protect her from this. He had to save her. He could think of only one way.

Love amounted to nothing in his father's game. Hatred, however, was both a powerful weapon and ally. Love, when dealing with his father, was a weakness and an enemy. He would have to cleanse himself of love. He would begin tonight. He had tried, the night before, to distance the two of them. He knew then that they had gotten too close. He knew then that he loved her too much. So he had pushed her away and she'd pulled him right back insistently, demandingly. Now a certain degree of urgency had been added to the task at hand. Now it wasn't only some distant future threat to her life that he worried about but a very imminent, very real threat.

He sighed and glanced at the Gryffindor table again. As if she could feel his eyes on her, Hermione slowly lifted her head, turning her gaze to him. When their eyes met, she smiled. After a moment, she bit her lip. He could see that she was considering something. He was almost afraid to find out what. He watched as she sat up straight, smoothing out her robes and hair and rubbing her eyes. She took a deep breath and subtly moved her right hand towards him, muttering something. 

From the not so familiar sudden rush of warmth and comfort, combined with his sudden urge to laugh, Draco knew almost instantly that he was now under the influence of a cheering charm. He smiled at Hermione, who was gleefully moving her hands once again and muttering. He felt the artificial happiness leave him, but it was not the same downer sensation he had experienced when he learned the charm in third year. 

He supposed that he had seemed rather down after reading his father's owl. It was really rather sweet of her to take initiative like that and attempt to cheer him up. He was still smiling, in fact, when he realized that there had been no wand in Hermione's hand. 


	10. Playing with Fire

Disclaimer: I'm too legit to claim Harry Potter. I'm merely a fanfiction writer. I'm somewhere near the bottom of the writing foodchain.
    
A/N: Thanks to my beta Jennifer!   

    Thanks to the reviewers; Serpena, Kou Shun'u (I really must write you a response in the reviews), Blanche Dubois, FEAngel258, NotSoBlondie, and Rose Aquafire. I love you all. Thank you.
    Enjoy!
"What other dungeon is so dark as one's own heart! What jailer so inexorable as one's self!" 

- Nathaniel Hawthorne** (1804 - 1864)**

***

Despite the headache now running rampant, Ron smiled. He could tell from Snape and Avery's chagrin that he was doing very well indeed. Snape snorted.

"Yes, Ron, you've done well with the interrogations but don't get too cocky. You've yet to master your thoughts."

Ron swallowed and furrowed his brow, attempting to make his mind blank. He hadn't counted on Snape reading his mind. Snape sighed and began pacing the classroom. Ron wondered if he'd heard all of the terrible things he'd thought about his Potions Master in the past.

"No, Weasley. You don't want a blank mind, even if you can achieve one. That's extremely suspicious. What you **must** do is **believe** what you say - I want you to love Voldemort, hate filthy half-breeds and Mudbloods, and take Dumbledore as nothing more than a Muggle-loving buffoon."

Ron seethed. Of course that's what Snape wanted. 

Frustrated, Snape threw up his hands. "Fine. I'll just leave you in Avery's loving care, then, shall I?" 

He turned quickly on his heel, and with a swish of his cloak, left the office. Avery grinned and approached Ron, taking a seat across from him.

"Oh, how fun. Severus can be such a spoilsport, you know?"

***

It had taken every ounce of Draco's self-restraint to refrain from confronting Hermione until that night. And when night fell, Draco received an owl.

She was tired. She needed sleep. She couldn't meet him tonight. She'd tell him everything later.

But this wasn't good enough for Draco. His hunger for her hadn't been fully satiated lately. Since their night in the Restricted Section, he had known what he wanted and what they were capable of, and it was painful to be denied that.

It wasn't just a physical thing. The physical aspect was simply the acknowledgement of how close they were, of the passion they shared, of the love…

Draco cursed. He couldn't continue with thoughts like these. What about his father? He couldn't love her. It would make him weak to his father's demands. He wouldn't be able to detach himself from anything that concerned her. He would be too emotionally involved to think clearly. And he couldn't very well save her life like that. His love for her was going to be his weakness.

He sighed. But that was his father's perception of love. Was his any different? 

Yes. Yes, Draco was throwing it all away - reputation, lifelong beliefs, his family - to be with her. He would sacrifice it all for her; his love was that strong.

He wasn't sure just yet how he would do this… If not his father, surely Voldemort would send others after her… But he'd die trying, that's for damned sure.

He sighed again and glanced at his clock. If only he could see her, be with her… just tonight. Tonight he needed her. 

Realizing that he was considering sneaking into the Gryffindor dorms to visit his likely unconscious girlfriend, he laughed and gruffly swiped his face with his hand. No. Tonight he would miss her, but tomorrow would make up for it. There was no need to devise ways to see her now. They would have plenty of opportunities. There was no rush.

He'd let her sleep tonight. Alone.

***

Hermione yawned and began to undress. She was strongly reminded of her third year at Hogwarts. Every night she'd dropped from sheer exhaustion. Some nights she toyed with the idea of using the time turner for more sleep. Probably luckily for her, her common sense won out each time. She'd never used the time-turner for anything but her studies… Except…

Well, of course, there was the time she and Harry saved Buckbeak and Sirius. She smiled, remembering them soaring through the air on Buckbeak, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. At the time, it had been the most enjoyable moment of her existence. At the time, she'd been in love with Harry.

And he'd certainly played the gallant hero. He'd saved more than the lives of Sirius and the hippogriff, done more than protect her from Lupin and the dementors…

He'd saved the truth as well. In the face of Snape's lies and Fudge's assumptions, he'd held onto the truth. And she had loved him all the more for it.

She sighed. What had happened to them? Obviously there had been tender feelings after the breakup, but now? Now Harry hardly noticed anything but Quidditch. Now he had no ambition, no thoughts… And she knew exactly who was to blame… And she was doing nothing. What had happened to her? She had always been so compassionate, had always loved him… How did she reach a point where she didn't care?

She yawned. She couldn't think about this now. She'd talk to Harry tomorrow. Surely talking to him would help her figure out where she stood. 

Yawning more and more insistently, Hermione climbed into her bed, thoughts of Harry nagging her as she drifted into a fitful sleep.

***

Ron swallowed hard as he stumbled from Snape's office. Avery was no man. Avery was a demon. He had never experienced the magnitude of pain he'd been put through in the last half an hour.

Irritatingly enough, Avery had helped him. He felt quite a bit better at controlling his thoughts, at lying…

He felt quite a bit better at embodying everything he stood against. After he had made it a good distance from the office, he slumped against the wall, heaving painfully. His robes were sticking to his very sweaty, very much aching body.

As he slid to the floor, he clasped his hands to his face and allowed the scene to replay in his mind. Snape had left, Avery had smiled. Avery had gotten very close to him. Avery was breathing down his neck. Avery was staring him straight in the eyes. Avery waved his wand and muttered something. Ron saw stars. Ron saw white. Ron's head felt as though a thousand needles were attempting to escape his brain, as though they were scraping at his skull…. He was sure that he would burst from the pain that surged through him. The last thing he remembered, he was clawing at the hands of the chair, and Avery was shouting something to him. 

__

What was he shouting? Oh, right. 

"_You can stop it. You are the only one who can stop it. If you can't take control, the pain will only intensify. You must control it. You must capture it and push it from your mind. You must block the pain, or you will die."_

It was possible that Avery never so much as opened his mouth. It was possible that it were his thoughts that were shouting. Regardless, Ron heard them. He heard them and he fought and fought. His brain screamed for mercy, but Ron kept on, furiously thinking, attempting to block Avery. And then he was engulfed in cool, painless dark. 

And then he woke up. Avery was standing across the room, helping himself to Snape's supply of Firewhiskey. He held up a shot glass to Ron, a questioning look in his eye. Ron nodded furiously, and didn't so much as look at the shot before tossing it down his throat.

The burning felt almost pleasant. He didn't know if he'd ever feel pain again, after experiencing that. He glared at Avery, who only smiled in response.

"Well done, mate."

Ron furrowed his brow. "Eh… Excuse me?"

Avery smirked at him and moved around Snape's desk, glass in hand. He pulled himself up on the desk and swung his legs about, very relaxed. 

"You just saved your life. Well done."

Ron waited for him to explain, for him to detail to Ron exactly why he had just put him through such a great deal of pain. Instead of responding, Avery knocked back his glass, downing the last of his Firewhiskey.

"Well? Why? What did you just do? What was the point of that? Were you trying to kill me? Because I think I'd have rather had you do that."

Avery chuckled and set down his empty glass. "Oh, Ron… It is Ron, isn't it?"

Ron nodded and then frowned. "What's your first name?"

Avery rolled his eyes. "Let's not get caught up in formalities now. Would you like to know what just happened or do you want to hear my life story? Somehow I don't think the latter pertains to you very much."

Ron rolled his eyes, mockingly. "Go on then."

Avery cleared his throat and took a seat in the chair closest to Ron. "Well then, Mr. Weasley. I just trespassed on your mind. I possess the ability, as does Snape. The two of us, along with Dumbledore, Voldemort, and a handful of Aurors and Death Eaters are the only witches and wizards capable of such intrusions. Some have natural ability and others ambitious enough studied until they were able. Some are weak, others are strong. The point is, we can read your thoughts, violate your thoughts and give you thoughts. While we're at it, some of us enjoy playing with the other areas of the brain. Namely, your nerve centers. It's quite possible to - and it has been done - kill a person by exploiting their nerve control. Essentially you can kill them with pain. I suppose it could be done with pleasure too, but that's really not the issue." 

Avery sighed and scratched his eyebrow. "Ron, I was killing you with the pain. You would have died had I continued. I was going to push you to your breaking point and stop. I wanted you to know what exactly you're getting yourself into. I wanted you to know what Voldemort can do to you. I wanted you to be prepared. What I wasn't counting on was you forcing me out of your head. You pushed me out so far that you managed to hit a nerve in me. The point is, Ron, you're capable of this. Severus and I knew that you must possess some extraordinary talent if Dumbledore was going to allow you to spy, but I had no idea…"

He yawned and waved a hand. "Synopsis; very good. Nicely done."

Ron gaped at him. 

"Can I have another shot?"

Avery cracked a smile and sauntered back to the Firewhiskey decanter.

Ron rubbed his eyes and stood, very shakily. He wondered if things could possibly get any worse.

***

Draco cornered Hermione in the library at lunch the next day. 

"Oh. Hi." She smiled weakly at him as he pressed her against the wall. His eyes flashed.

"The strangest thing happened to me yesterday, and I was wondering if you might be able to shed some light on the matter."

Hermione swallowed.

"You see, I was sitting at the Slytherin table, mulling over a particularly unpleasant owl from my father, when I was practically blinded by a sudden flash of happiness. And when I found the person responsible for causing such an intense wave of glee, I discovered that the caster of the Cheering Charm held no wand."

He paused and when she didn't respond, he closed the space between the two, flattening her against the wall. She could feel his growing arousal pressing into her leg and she closed her eyes.

"Since when can you perform wandless magic, Hermione?"

His whisper made her entire body tremble. She was sure that if they held this pose any longer she would collapse from the want and anticipation. Apparently, Draco felt the same. He pulled away from the wall and gracefully hopped up to a seat on a nearby table, one eyebrow quirked curiously at her.

She wanted nothing more than to slide down the wall to the floor. She wasn't even sure how much longer she could stand. She took a deep breath to strengthen her resolve and stepped away from the wall. If this was a control game, she'd win.

"Well, Draco…"

She tossed her hair behind her shoulder as she approached him, maintaining eye contact the entire time.

"I practiced. A lot. Until I could. I practiced until I could light my fingertips and lift desks by pointing a finger."

She was attempting a husky voice, and although she felt ridiculously stupid in doing so, she noted that Draco was responding. When she finally reached him, she slid a hand up his thigh and leaned in, allowing her hair to brush his face as she whispered in his ear.

"And I wanted to make you _happy_ of course."

She had slid her hand up to the highest part of his inner thigh at this and was most surprised when Draco's hand clamped down onto hers, jerking it brusquely away. 

  
She pulled away to find that his eyes were closed and he was taking deep breaths. Finally, he opened his eyes and slid from the table, loosening his grip slightly on her hand.

"So, let me get this straight…"

His tone was surprisingly harsh. Hermione felt herself flush and wondered if she'd pushed him too hard.

"Because you managed, after repeated failed attempts, to perform two simple first year spells, you thought it would be a good idea to try an exceedingly difficult third year charm on me? One that could potentially harm me?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and toyed with his hair using her free hand.

"Oh, please Draco. You could stand to be a little manic for a few hours."

His grip on her hand tightened and with his other hand, he seized the wrist of her free hand. His eyes were as cold as she'd ever seen them.

"This is serious. You could have done much more damage than that, playing with my mind. You know that."

She sighed and jerked her right hand free to rub her eyes. 

"I'm sorry. I just… I wasn't thinking straight. I was so proud and sure… and you looked so down and I just - "

Hermione frowned and dropped her hand, shooting him a curious stare.

"What was in that letter that upset you so much?"

***

Ron steeled himself for what he would be facing when he entered Snape's office. He wasn't expecting to find the headmaster having tea and gingerbread cookies with Avery and Snape.

"Ah, Ron. The man of the hour. Come, sit, have a cookie." 

Dumbledore summoned one of his trademark comfy chintz chairs and smiled, his eyes twinkling. "I daresay you're doing quite well, Ron. Quite well indeed. I admit, although I knew you possessed some talent, I had no idea you'd do quite so well on your first attempt."

Ron was pleased to see Snape scowling into his teacup. Ron had a funny feeling that Avery wasn't listening, as he seemed rather preoccupied with a far corner of the ceiling.

"Thank… Thank you sir."

Ron stuffed the cookie into his mouth. 

"Better eat it as fast as you can."

  
He was most shocked to find Avery squatting before him in the next instant, watching him intently. Ron wanted to protest, wanted to tell him that this wasn't fair, that he wasn't ready. But when Avery waved his wand, the pain came and Ron nearly choked on the gingerbread. Instead, he focused all of his energy on the pain. This time, however, he wanted a little payback. This time, Ron focused on probing _Avery's_ mind. 

Once successful, Ron did choke. Avery waved his wand angrily, breaking the link, and strode over to the Firewhiskey. Snape and Dumbledore exchanged a grim look.

Once Ron had successfully swallowed, he pointed a finger at Avery accusingly. "Ronald."

Avery turned, glass already in hand, and grinned at Ron. "Fine name, isn't it?"

Ron nodded, numbly. "I thought you were mad."

Avery shrugged his shoulders and returned to his old favorite perch on Snape's desk. Ron noted Snape's grimace of distaste, and could have sworn he overheard his Potions Master mutter something about Avery being _quite_ mad.

"Well, I must admit, I hadn't counted on you returning the favor just yet. Yesterday was purely accidental and didn't cause much more than a sting in my right pinky. Today, however… Today my dear boy, I daresay you had purpose."

Avery looked much more proud than angry. Ron wasn't sure that this was entirely healthy. He looked to Snape and Dumbledore for confirmation. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and Snape was still regarding Avery with distaste.

Ron cleared his throat. "Right, then. Are we done here?"

Dumbledore's face took on a sterner look and he turned his attention to Ron. "Initiations are almost upon us, Ron."

Ron nodded. "More practice, then? With Avery?" He was beginning to develop a twisted sort of fondness for the nutty older man.

"No, Ron. I think it's time you practiced with Severus." Watching Ron's face fall, the headmaster continued. "You're doing very well, Ron. I think you might just be ready. Wizards less prepared than you have spied on the Dark Side."

"And suffered all the more for it," Snape added coldly, walking briskly around the chairs to stand in front of Ron's. In a rather vindictive fashion, he pulled out his wand and with a flick of his wrist, sent his desk flying into the far wall, causing it to lose Avery neatly on its journey. He smiled and turned his attention back towards Ron. "This will hurt. Much more than any games Avery has played with you. You will fight it. And while you are fighting it and lying in your thoughts, I will be asking you questions. Verbally and mentally, you must be prepared."

Ron nodded and took a deep breath. Snape waved his wand, muttered a few words, and Ron felt the doors of his thoughts fly open. He began at once.

__

I hate that stupid, filthy bastard Potter. 

"Ronald Weasley, to which side are you loyal in this fight?"

"Why, the side of the Dark Lord, of course."

__

Why would I side with filthy half-breeds and Muggle lovers? I'm a Pureblood.

"And what about your family's loyalties, Weasley?"

__

My family has never known what's good for it. If they did, we wouldn't have to live in such a shack and wear second-hand clothes.

"My family's loyalties are no concern of mine, my Lord."

"And what of your friends?"

__

What friends?

Ron was most surprised that this thought came so naturally, without a prompter from his creativity.

"I've found that I have no true friends, my Lord. All have betrayed me. None are worthy."

"All, Weasley? Even Potter?"

__

Everything is always about Potter.

"Potter? Potter is a waste of my time. He's incorrigible. These ideas he has… "

Ron shook his head.

"No, there is no lingering loyalty to Potter, my Lord."

Snape's smile twisted into a smirk.

  
"And what of the Mudblood girl? What of Granger?"

__

Hermione is forever lost to me. She might as well be dead. 

Once again, Ron was surprised at the truth in his lies.

"Sir, Granger is a no-good Mudblood who spends her free time trying to gain freedom for the world's house-elves. I'd hardly say she's good company."

Ron swallowed. Snape's eyebrow twitched.

"Ah, but I understand that Granger has been working on some extra-credit assignments as of late. Do you know anything about her newfound interest in the Dark Arts, Weasley?"

__

Well, yes, however…

"Sir, I'm willing to bet it is an entirely academic interest."

Snape scowled. Ron felt the white lingering on the horizon. No. Things weren't going to end this way. Snape was not going to pump him for information and then punish him with pain. He pushed the pain, powered by hatred, pushed it until he knew he had found Snape's nerve control…

__

"Finite Incanatatum!"

Dumbledore had leapt to his feet, and both Snape and Ron fell back, breathing heavily. Snape cursed and stood, shakily leaning on his chair back. He stumbled towards the Firewhiskey, where Avery was happily pouring himself another glass, seemingly unfazed by his fall from Snape's desk.

"Do you understand, Ron, what will happen if you try to reciprocate with Voldemort?" 

Ron nodded but Dumbledore continued, now pacing the office.

"First of all, if you let on, for just an instant, that you possess these abilities, he'll know that you are hiding something. Second of all, and I want you to remember this, Ron - "

Dumbledore had stopped next to his chair and was kneeling very close to Ron. His eyes reflected a mixture of concern, grief and anger. For a moment, Ron thought it was directed at him.

"You are not being sent to battle Voldemort. You are nothing but a researcher. You are there to gather information. The minute you butt heads with Voldemort, you die. And it will be the most painful - "

Dumbledore broke off and stood. Ron now understood that the anger was, in fact, directed at Voldemort. The headmaster took a deep breath and summoned the now greatly depleted bottle of Firewhiskey, much to the dismay of Snape and Avery.

"I think, perhaps that is enough."

He turned back to Ron. "Ron, you are very gifted. Do not let it bring about your downfall. You have only a few days left to practice. If you have any concerns whatsoever, please do not hesitate to stop by my office."

A moment later, Dumbledore and the Firewhiskey were gone. A general consensus of displeasure was reached in a collective sigh from the three remaining men.

****

***

Draco sighed and brought down his quill again, his hand determined to write. Once again, he brought his arm up and stared down at the parchment.

__

Lucius, Dearest Father, Dear Father,

I

Nope. Still the same. The letters hadn't formed for him. What was he going to tell him? 'Yes, I'd be glad to help you kill my girlfriend. I'll get right on it.' He scowled. But he couldn't exactly tell him the truth, now could he? He could just see it now. 'Hey, Dad, I'm in love with that girl you want to kill. How about we leave her alive? Don't worry about the Dark Lord. I'm sure he won't notice. He kills people all the time. I'm sure one can slip through the cracks.'

He snorted. That was just ludicrous. If only Hermione - 

No. He wasn't going to get her involved. He had already decided that. He decided that when he didn't tell her about Lucius' plans. He decided that when he lied to her. He shivered. Lying to Hermione felt so… dirty somehow. Like he didn't deserve her.

He brought his head down onto the table with a resounding crack. He was _not_ going to think like this. He was not going to become some mushy, redeemed little Gryffindor ass-kisser. He wasn't going to be in love.

He groaned and clawed at his face. Easier said than done, Draco. Easier said than done.

***

The rain just wouldn't stop. Harry gazed pessimistically at the dismal skies. He wondered if he had seasonal depression.

Or maybe it was just the fact that he couldn't play Quidditch in this weather.

With a heavy sigh, he shuffled down the steps into the Gryffindor common room. What a boring Saturday afternoon. He wondered vaguely where Ron was.

"Harry."

He looked up, surprised at hearing his name. He was even more shocked at the speaker.

"Hermione?" He paused, midway in his hurried step towards her. Now his mind turned to the months of tension, the harsh words, and the even harsher silences they had shared. This wasn't his Hermione anymore. He idly wondered if she had ever really been _his_ Hermione. For some reason, this triggered thoughts of Draco. He couldn't, for the life of him, figure out the link there.

***

She knew, before she had even spoken, what his reaction would be. Good old predictable Harry. At least _he_ hadn't changed. Then again, had she?

I'm here, aren't I? 

She cleared her throat. "Harry..."

She couldn't go on. She didn't even know what she wanted to say. No, that's not true. She knew what she _wanted_ to say. But she couldn't lie to him. And she wanted to. She wanted to tell him she was sorry. That everything would go back to normal. That nothing was or had been wrong. That she had just been stressed, or bored, or a combination. 

But she wouldn't lie to him. She sighed. 

But bless his heart, he seemed to understand. She knew he couldn't - that if he did, he would never speak to her again. But when he rushed forward and hugged her, she couldn't believe that she was being anything but truthful to him.

"It's okay, Hermione. I'm sorry."

That was what broke her. How could he apologize for what she'd done? This boy, who had been sacrificing his whole life now for others, was asking to be forgiven for being betrayed. She was there, twisting the knife, and he wouldn't even say 'Et tu, Hermione?'

With a heavy, shaky sigh, she pulled away from him. 

"Harry, I can't even begin to explain things to you right now. But I promise that I will, eventually. I owe you at least that much."

With a last glance at her former best friend, she swept through the portrait hole and headed for the library. She had a lot of thinking to do, and she would have to know exactly where she stood by tonight. 

Draco, unlike Harry, wouldn't accept indecision, betrayal or regret. This she knew.

****


	11. Getting Burned

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is most definitely not mine. Please don't sue.
A/N: Hardest chapter to write. Ever. Of the entire fic. Probably the hardest to read as well. I apologize ahead of time. Am expecting flames. Will cringe and deal with them as necessary. 

Thanks to Jennifer for an excellent Beta job once again.

Thanks to Kawaiitsuki, FEAngel258, Rose Aquafire (Glad I can keep you on your toes), Kou Shun'u (I'm glad you like the Ron/Avery and I hope that the next few chapters soothe your curiosity J ), Blanche Dubois, RussianSoul, Hotdevelettefire, and JT for your sweet, encouraging reviews. 

Thanks for reading!

"It is easy to go down into Hell; night and day, the gates of dark Death stand wide; but to climb back again, to retrace one's steps to the upper air - there's the rub, the task. "

- Virgil(70 BC - 19 BC), Aeneid

****

***

She sighed.   
  
This could most definitely not continue. And as much as she rationalized it, she couldn't convince her heart.   
  
To hell with that. She couldn't do this. She had to end it.   
  
The walk to the classroom that night was the longest one yet. He was already there, waiting for her.   
  
"Draco."   
  
He nodded, as if confirming her suspicions on his name. He stood up to meet her.   
  
"I need to talk to you."   
  
He cursed under his breath, as if he knew what was coming.   
  
"Damn it, Hermione. I thought we established this in the beginning. You said it wouldn't be a problem. You said that it didn't matter."   
  
He did.   
  
"Draco..." She cursed under her breath before she continued, on the verge of tears. "I love you. I can't love you. This was never supposed to be about love."   
  
"Then what was it supposed to be about?"   
  
She paused, caught off guard by his question. Finally, she shrugged. "I don't know. Learning about the Dark Arts, having exciting snogs here and there..." She blushed, staring at the ground.   
  
Draco frowned. "Hermione."   
  
She looked up. "What?"   
  
"Why?"   
  
This also caught her off guard. 'Damn it, Granger, you've got to be on your toes.' "Why do I want to end it?"   
  
He stared at her, waiting. That was one of the things she loved about him. He refused to answer questions that had no purpose in being asked.   
  
She sighed. "It's...complicated. I feel like... Like I'm two people. I feel like I'm lying to Harry. And... and I sometimes feel like I'm lying to you. This," and here she gestured wildly and ambiguously, "isn't me. As much as I'd like to think it is, no matter how hard I try, it's not. I'm still a goody-goody Gryffindor. And I can't keep lying to you by trying to be... this..."   
  
She definitely felt some tears down there. They had crept into her last words. She knew he'd heard them, too. He didn't miss a beat, that man.   
  
Since when had he become a man?   
  
"Hermione."   
  
She looked at him, waiting for him to tell her to leave, that she was never what he'd hoped she would be. That she was the damned Mudblood Granger that he'd always suspected she was, deep down.   
  
"Do us both a favor and shut up."   
  
Her mouth dropped open. Unsure of whether to leave or stay, she shuffled her feet and glanced at the door.   
  
"You are," he paused and gestured around the room, "this. You have always been this. You are also, however, loyal. You're loyal not only to those who you should be loyal to, you're loyal to anyone who has ever shaken your fucking hand. That is your biggest weakness."   
  
"Harry is who I should be loyal to. And I'm stabbing him in the back. Every time I come here, it's another wound I inflict on him," she paused, shaking her head and continued in a low voice, "...last week I almost asked him if I could borrow his cloak. Remember? Draco, I was going to borrow his cloak so that I could get better at the magic that killed his parents - at the magic he has spent his entire life fighting and running away from."   
  
Draco paused, regarding her pensively. "Why do you come here, then? Why do you do it? Why do you love it so much if it's wrong?"   
  
Hermione's tears were now threatening her eyes. Soon they would assail her cheeks. She didn't trust herself with anything more than a whisper. "Because sometimes what we love is what will destroy us. Love is not loyal. Love will break your heart and destroy you without a second glance. Love is not sacrifice. Love is something to be sacrificed. You sacrifice love for happiness sometimes."   
  
Draco looked down at his feet, bringing two fingers up to massage his forehead. It was as if his father was speaking and the words were coming out of her mouth. When he dropped his hand, his eyes were red-rimmed. "Are you going to sacrifice _me_, Hermione?"   
  
The threat of tears was not idle. Through the barrage, she tried to choke out a response. When she failed, she decided to wait. Once she had regained her composure, she looked up.   
  
And Draco was gone.   
  
  
***

Hermione rushed back to Gryffindor tower, collapsing on the common room couch. It took her a few minutes to notice Ron seated in the chair across from her, cloaked in the shadows. She started and leaned towards him slightly.

"Ron? Ron, are you alright?"

He laughed and Hermione recoiled. 

It was then that she felt the sudden, intrusive wave. It felt as though someone was staring at her, had read her expressions like a book, like they had penetrated her deepest needs and desires. It felt as though her mind was being read. She focused, trying to make her mind blank and glared at Ron. He sighed.

"It doesn't work. Even if you can clear your thoughts, it's too late. I'll have stolen your deepest secrets by now. Even if I hadn't, I'd know that you had some and I'd eventually get them out."

  
She stared at him, open-mouthed. She wasn't sure what to ask first. How much had he gleaned, how long he'd had the ability… If he'd ever done it before…

Ron sighed again and she felt his presence leave her brain. "No, Hermione. I've never done this to you before. And all that I learned is what I already know. You're desperately in love with Draco Malfoy. Big surprise there. Honestly, Hermione, you have the worst taste in men. First the little four-eyed scarhead and then the man who styles his hair with his own disgusting greasiness. The stupid git."

He noticed her face contorting to one of pride, hurt and offense and he held up a hand. "Hey, I don't care. Whatever makes you happy. I'm just saying…"

He sighed and turned away from her, drawing up his knees. There was a long silence before Hermione decided to speak.

She wondered if he already knew what she would say. By his lack of a response, she decided that he was no longer reading her mind.

"Ron?"

She was surprised at how small her voice sounded.

"Yea?"

"What's going on?"

He sighed and pulled himself up from the chair, shuffling towards the dorms. She frowned at that, noticing for the first time that he was wearing a rather warm-looking cloak. And that he didn't appear to be the slightest bit tired. He seemed… apprehensive. When he passed the couch he stopped, reached down and ruffled her hair. "Wish I knew. Wish I knew… G'night Granger."

Hermione nodded at him, afraid that speech would bring forth the tears already threatening her eyes.

Losing a best friend once is devastating. Losing him twice is worse. But to lose two best friends repeatedly as well as the man you love was simply too much for any girl to bear.

***

Draco took a deep breath and attempted an arrogant stroll into the Potions classroom. Not bloody likely. He felt like shit. He wanted nothing more than to simply lay in his bed, all day, everyday, drink Firewhiskey and eat whatever the House-elves brought him. But he had to go. He had to drag his aching, exhausted body down to Snape's classroom and he had to face her. And, of course, today would be the testing of the Aberro potion. Just his luck. After last night… 

He shuddered. Today, in this particular Potions class, he could most _definitely_ not think about _any_ of last night.

He sighed and took a seat at his usual table, fighting the urge to find her face in the room until he could no longer stand it. Oh, and it was worth giving in. Her wild, obnoxious hair, her crinkled, frustrated brow… Her fiery cinnamon eyes… She was looking at Ron. Well… glaring at him was a more appropriate way of phrasing it. He wondered what the wearisome Weasley had done today.

Snape's entrance brought him back to attention.

"If some of you are not too imbecilic to remember, today's class will be spent testing the Aberro Potions you brewed last session. Let's see…"

Draco watched Snape's gaze sweep the room, dropping temptingly on Neville, himself, Hermione, and finally settling on Ron.

"Weasley. Come to the front of the room."

Ron cringed and Draco felt the odd sensation of sympathy wash over him. He felt sorry for Ron. He would give anything to avoid revealing all to this particular audience. He allowed himself to take pleasure in the fact that it was Ron and not him that was at the front of the room, and his sympathies with Ron died.

He waited for Ron to splurt out his long, deep love for Harry and sit down, waited, zoning out the banter between the two, looked at the clock on the wall that read "Not Nearly Time to Go", self-consciously glanced at his potion and finally looked up.

He was most surprised at the scene that met his glance.

***

Ron hadn't wanted to do it. But Snape just had to push it. Snape had to force him up there, to put him on display, knowing damned well that Ron had no need for the Aberro potion to hide his secrets.

So he pushed right back.

__

I'm not telling you a damned thing, you greasy git.

Snape glared at him and then his gaze swept to the class.

"I'll be interrogating Weasley now in such a manner that I'll essentially be reading his mind. If he has any secrets, no doubt we will soon ferret them out."

He turned to Ron and smiled.

  
"Weasley, tell me, have you had any inapp-"

Ron's anger had overrun his self-control and before he realized what had happened, Severus Snape lay thrashing on the floor, his mind firmly in Ron's grasp.

Ron let go. Ron let go of Snape's thoughts, of Snape's nerve center… Ron let go of his Potion's Master, let go of the desk he had been leaning against, and fell.

***

The owl had said to meet in the usual place, at the usual time. She hoped dearly that it was not a joke, or some plot for revenge. She knew she couldn't handle that right now. She still felt a sickening pain in the depth of her chest, in her throat, behind her eyes… She maintained the pathetic feeling of someone on the verge of tears.

She was there early and so was he.

The sight of him allowed a few tears to break free, but she forced herself to regain control before she faced him. He was looking out the window.

She approached him carefully, treading on the tiles as if they were eggs. "Draco?"

Draco cleared his throat and turned to face her. "Listen to me, and don't speak. This isn't easy and I'd like to get it over with quickly. It's just that… you have to know. Regardless of what happens. I want you to know." He paused and sighed. "For me, love is sacrifice, Hermione. I would never sacrifice it for anything, but I would give up the world for love… for you."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Draco brought a finger to her lips. Her eyes and cheeks shined with the same tears, and he could see her pain. He certainly didn't want to hear it as well.

"I hope some day you know how much I'm sacrificing for you right now. I hope some day you can understand that and maybe then you'll really know how much I love you. But you can't know that now. Even if you could, I wouldn't tell you. You're not ready for this," at that he paused, pulling her towards him. She could smell him and she could feel his breath on her forehead… And she never wanted to pull away from him. "This… love."

When he finished speaking, Draco kissed her forehead, pulled away and strode from the room. 

Hermione felt as if this was by far the cruelest thing he had ever done to her. With his words echoing in her mind, she collapsed on the floor of the classroom and cried. She cried until she had no tears left, until she couldn't breathe or swallow. When she could cry no longer, she lay there, prostrate, reduced to whimpering until dawn's light intruded on her privacy.

With the light stinging her eyes, she rose shakily to her feet, wiped her face with her shirt, and shuffled from the room.

She didn't know that her tears had been echoed in the dungeons.

***

Harry woke up. He woke up and sat straight up in his bed. Something was different. 'Oh, Merlin…' Everything came rushing back to him. Attempting to absorb months of emotions, memories and facts in a matter of seconds is no easy feat, and so Harry tumbled from his bed. He found himself halfway to the floor, precariously balanced so that his head was barely touching the cool stone. He realized that his feet were still tangled in his sheets.

'Merlin, they're going to think I'm getting worse, not better.' He chuckled and ripped the sheets that had entangled him, leaping to his feet. He had to find Ron. He had to see Dumbledore… He had to… _had_ to see Hermione.

First things first. He sprinted the short distance to Ron's bed and, parting the hangings, began shaking Ron's sleeping body mercilessly.

"Ahh! No! No wait! I don't - I'm not- AHHHHHHRGG NO PLEASE!"

Ron flipped over to find that it was, in fact, Harry who was shaking him awake. He collapsed against the pillows and heaved a sigh of relief. "If you weren't so pitiful right now, I might just have to kill you for that."

Harry paused and bit his lip, now reconsidering telling Ron his news.

"What, Harry? What is it?"

Harry grinned, all death threats forgotten. "I'm back, mate. I'm back."

***

Hermione glanced up from her morning reading to find Harry and Ron eagerly tromping down the stairs from the dormitory. When they reached the common room, the pair skidded to a halt and exchanged a questioning look. Hermione sighed.

"Look, you two do whatever you want. You don't have to worry about me. I won't bother you or tell on you or anything. I'll just get back to my reading."

She turned her attention back to her book, more than a little bitter at her exclusion from their obvious excitement. 'Probably some ruddy Quidditch thing anyway.'

"Hermione, no… Look…"

She looked up at Harry, who was advancing on her quickly. He knelt by the chair she sat in and smiled up at her. 'He looks… No, but it can't be…' She opened her mouth to ask him what was going on, but he brought a finger to her lip, silencing her. He leaned in closer, as if he was telling her the biggest secret of her life. Light danced in his eyes as he whispered, "I'm back, Hermione. I'm all better now".

Her mouth dropped open and she noted Ron slipping out the portrait hole in the background. "You - Harry? You're… You're all right now? Do you remember- What…. How… Do you know- I never…"

She finally gave up on speech and threw her arms around him for the warmest embrace they had shared in two years.

Finally, she pulled away, summoned another armchair and pointed at it with her wand. "Sit. Talk. Explain."

Harry smiled and obeyed. Fifteen minutes later, an awkward silence had already set in.

Harry coughed. "So… Er… Hermione… How has this year been for you? What have you been up to? Any new-" 

His face had gone bright red. Something told Hermione that he had suddenly remembered the part about her and Draco. She cleared her throat.

"I've been busy of course. Lots to do. Lots to learn."

Harry nodded and opened his mouth, glancing up at her. He closed it again and focused his gaze on his shoes. He repeated this process several times before Hermione's irritation levels had peaked.

"Just ask, Harry. If you want to know so much, ask."

She hadn't realized she was grinding her teeth. It came out much harsher than she had intended. Surely, Harry wouldn't take it too hard. Draco certainly wouldn't have given it a second thought. By his slowly reddening face, however, she realized that this was _not_, in fact, Draco.

"Is there… Was there… Has there been something… something between you and Malfoy?"

Hermione laughed. "Yea, Harry. Has been. Doesn't look like there is anymore." She felt a sharp pain in her chest and behind her eyes. No. She wasn't going to cry again. This is exactly what she wanted. This is what she gave up Draco for. Harry. She had him back now. He was okay. She had gotten everything she wanted, so why was she so upset? Life isn't a fairy tale, and anyway, you can't befriend the hero and date the villain.

But Draco wasn't the villain. Oh, she couldn't think like this.

"Hermione?"

The common room came back into focus, and there was Harry… Oh bless him… Harry with his messy black hair and ancient glasses… Harry with his crooked smile and the eyes that lit up just for her… Harry who she would never have to prove herself to, who would never care if she could do wandless magic, whom would never _complain_ if she performed a cheering charm on him… Harry, who was hers, without any effort. Harry who loved her regardless. Harry who loved safely, steadily. Harry, who had not a passionate bone in his body. Harry, who would never burn her with his kisses or freeze her with his eyes. Harry, who would never pain her with a smirk or surprise her with a smile…melt her with a smile. 

Harry, who was most certainly not Draco.

Harry, who she was most certainly not in love with.

***

Hermione's nails were bitten nearly to the quick. It was now well after midnight and he wasn't there.

Just as she considered giving up and leaving, the door swung open.

He didn't look good. He looked pained and… was there a limp in his walk?

"Draco."

He didn't acknowledge the fact that she had spoken. His eyes roamed the room, looking everywhere but at her. "What is it, Granger?"

He couldn't have possibly said anything more hurtful. What an artist. "I know what you did."

Draco sighed and propped himself up on a nearby desk, wincing slightly. "You don't know the half of it."

"I know that you undid it… somehow…"

Draco rubbed his eyes. "You have no idea how complicated that curse was, Hermione."

"I thought it was a potion."

"That was the basis for it. There were so many other things involved… that had come into play in some of the Quidditch accidents earlier in the term… some things even from the night Cedric died… The Dark Lord had been working this one out for a while, and he wanted me to pull it all together for him… It didn't just start when you got me those books. It's been going on for some time now… it was one of the most complicated curses I've ever seen."

Hermione's eyes widened a bit, but as she considered what he was saying and what she already knew, subconsciously, she wasn't terribly surprised. She bit her lip. "At first I… I wanted to come here to thank you."

Draco glared at her. "That's what you brought me here for?"

Hermione sighed. "No… Draco… You were right."

He squinted. "Right about what?"

"I was… this… all along. I'm not the girl I used to be. I can't even find common ground for me and Harry… and… I miss you… Christ. It hurts me to see you. I've never felt pain like this before."

Draco sighed and turned his head. When he finally faced her again, she could see what had been tears on his cheeks. "You don't understand, Hermione. When we said goodbye, we said goodbye. I can't take you back. There is no rewind."

"Why not?"

"I belong to someone else now." At that, he pulled up the sleeve of his robe. The dark mark was there, its blackness fading gradually back to a flesh tone. He had been freshly called.

"Is… is that where you were tonight?"

He didn't answer. She should have known that he wouldn't answer a question with no purpose. He crossed the small distance that separated them, kissed her forehead, turned and was gone.

His kiss burned her skin, leaving a mark like the one on his arm. She would still be his, she knew, forever.

***

Lucius winced and dropped his quill, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes. Sure enough, his presence was being requested. He took a deep breath, stood and without a word to Narcissa, he was gone.

"Lucius, how kind of you to join me."

Lucius nodded and kneeled. "The pleasure is all mine, my Lord. How can I be of service?"

Voldemort smiled and waved his hand. "Stand, Lucius. We're friends here. No need for formality."

Lucius obeyed and smiled, but knew that if he ever failed to kneel before his Lord he would suffer for it. It was interesting; the games Voldemort played with people.

"I've called you in on the matter of the girl… I believe her name is Granger?"

Lucius nodded fervently. "Yes, my Lord."

"Do not kill her."

Lucius coughed and glanced up, meeting Voldemort's gaze before he realized what he was doing. He cleared his throat and shot his gaze downward. "I apologize, my Lord. Do you mean that you wish no retribution for her actions?"

Voldemort smiled. "Oh my dear Lucius. How very bloodthirsty you are. Really now, there's no need to go and waste a mind so capable, so easy to turn… so very close to both Harry Potter and, apparently the Dark Arts."

Lucius swallowed.

"Certainly it would have been beneficial for her to die earlier, but now that the curse has been lifted…"

Voldemort's grip tightened on the arms of the chair he was sitting in and he glared into the fireplace.

"You will bring her to me."

Lucius nodded and bowed. "Thank you, my Lord."

As he was turning to go, he was stopped by the cold voice once again.

"Oh and Lucius… Your dear son has really gone above and beyond my expectations of him as of late. I have some rather pertinent matters that we must discuss. I expect I will be calling him soon."

Lucius noted Voldemort's tightening grip on the arms of his chair, didn't miss the hint of irritation in his Lord's demeanor… He nodded and bowed his goodbye once again and wondered desperately what his son could have possibly done to offend the Dark Lord so.


	12. Desperation

Disclaimer: I have two jobs and I still cannot afford the repercussions of claiming Harry Potter as my own. Still on the bottom of the writing foodchain.

A/N:

Thanks to my wonderful beta Jennifer for her hard work and encouragement.

Thanks to the reviewers; Hopeless Romantic, Blanche Dubois, Rose AquaFire, Frozen Darkness, Eriador and FEAngel258. I apologize for the heartwrenching last chapter. 

Only a few chapters left to this story. I've really enjoyed writing it. I hope that you all have enjoyed reading it, as well. Thanks for your consistent support.

***

"Everyone has talent. What is rare is the courage to follow the talent to the dark place where it leads. " 

- Erica Jong

***

Draco couldn't even cry. He was impressed at his own continuing ability to function. The thoughts that overwhelmed him, that kept him up until the last few hours before breakfast…. They never left him.

He thought about Hermione constantly. He remembered the pain in her face when they'd said goodbye… for good. Her hurt and his guilt at causing it refused to leave him. He thought about what she would do now… where she would go… whom she would turn to. She certainly didn't fit in with the Wonder Boy any longer – she had killed a man, after all. He knew that Harry would never take her back if he knew, and he also knew that Hermione wouldn't be able to go back to him with that skeleton in her closet. She needed someone who understood her and would support her. 

It was then that his thoughts flickered to Ronald Weasley. When the fuck he had decided to make something out of himself, Draco didn't know. He had been completely shocked to find him at the initiation ceremony. But, somehow, Draco knew that he wouldn't confide in Hermione. She would find no solace there. Either he would be afraid to tell her or… Or perhaps he wasn't really on Voldemort's side at all. It was entirely possible that Weasley was spying. Draco grimaced at the possible consequences Weasley would face if that were true. In any case, Hermione would certainly not find a confidant in Ron.

Then again, he supposed she didn't really _need_ anyone. She possessed the kind of independence that he had always wanted. 

Instead of comforting him, this only served to cause him greater concern.

Would she turn on him? He doubted it. He knew that she loved him. It didn't matter that it hadn't actually been said until the night of their breakup. One of the greatest things about their relationship (could he even call it that?) was that neither ever had to state the obvious. 

His greatest worry was Voldemort. He had tried to protect her from that… Oh, if only she knew… Involuntarily, his thoughts flashed back to the night he had received the mark – the night she had decided to sacrifice him for Harry – to sacrifice love for loyalty. 

__

"So, the young Malfoy… Let's hope that you will prove somewhat more loyal and less spineless than your father. You've already done me great service over these last few years." 

Those cold, creepy fingers were caressing Draco's jaw line. He dared not rise from his kneeling stance, or even raise his eyes to meet the Dark Lord's. 'Watch what you ask for' thought Draco grimly. 'I might just take over your little operation someday.'

Suddenly the gentle caresses turned into an ice-cold, bony grip around Draco's throat. "Look at me."

Draco's chin rose without his consent and he found himself staring into the heartless red eyes.

"Before I allow you to become one of… mine…" Voldemort paused and… grinned, a truly disturbing sight… Draco could only imagine the double entendre he had implied in this statement. The thought made him shiver and want to wretch. He wished he didn't have such a strong imagination.

Voldemort stopped grinning. "Certain rumors have reached me about your recent activities."

Draco's blood seemed to freeze. 'Oh God, please don't know about Her. Oh no, please no…' 

Somehow he knew it was in vain. Of course the Dark Lord would know. How could he have been so stupid? Voldemort would have had plenty of spying opportunities throughout the history of their little trysts.

His face remained calm, however, portraying no sign of fear.

"Tell me about your relationship with this… Mudblood girl. I believe her name is… Granger?" Voldemort looked to Lucius for confirmation. Lucius nodded vigorously and opened his mouth for more of an ass-kissing opportunity, but wasn't able to say anything. 

The Dark Lord was not in the mood to deal with Lucius tonight.

Draco suddenly couldn't breathe, but he didn't think that it had anything to do with Voldemort's grip on his throat. Still attempting to save both himself and Hermione, however, he sighed heavily, using the last air in his lungs.

"With all due respect, my Lord, I would hope that you would know me well enough by now to know that there could have never been anything… significant… going on with that… Mudblood."

His own words were burning him. The Dark Lord said nothing, but did not seem satisfied. Draco decided to continue.

"I'm sure you remember what it was like to be my age, Lord. I wanted a… plaything… if you will…And she was rather attractive. Anyway, I thought it would be fun to play with her emotions, after all of the irritation she's given me over the years. And it was."

The Dark Lord released his grip and turned away from Draco. He waited for the word and the flash of blinding pain… He was sure that he had earned it. You just can't lie to Voldemort and get away with it. He was about to open his mouth and spew some sort of apology when the Dark Lord turned around.

He muttered a hasty Morsmordre, touching Draco's forearm, and strolled on to the next initiate. It was much less ceremonial than Draco had expected, but he hardly had time to notice. He quickly collapsed from the pain. He had no idea how long he lay there, willing the tears to stay back, and grasping his arm that now missed some flesh. His only thoughts were focused on how close he had come to admitting his lie – on how close he had come to dying. Three words repeated in his head until he finally blacked out from the pain.

She weakened me.

At first he had been angry. Angry at her and angry at himself for loving her. And then he was angry with Voldemort. 

He finally reached the point where he convinced himself that everything that was wrong had come from Voldemort. It was then that he decided to break the spell on Harry – as a 'fuck you' to the Dark Lord and as a last ditch attempt to heal Hermione's hurt – to undo any damage he had caused. 

There were very few things that Draco regretted in his life. For the most part, he viewed bad experiences as an important part of growing up. Everything was a learning experience to him.

But the night following his breaking of the curse, Draco regretted his decision. He had been through Crucio before. It was hard to not be exposed to it, in spite of his mother's attempts, it was a definite presence when you grew up the son of a Death Eater and took lessons from the Dark Lord for two years.

But this was nothing like Crucio.

***

Ron grimaced as he watched the gargoyle move to reveal Dumbledore's escalator. Fucking around with Snape's mind in front of the Potions' class had been a very bad idea. A part of him was still indignant about the fact that Snape had provoked him, that Snape had started it, that it had been entirely Snape's own fault. 

But the rest of him realized how incredibly childish this was. He had to face his own mistakes. He had to admit that he was wrong and he had to apologize to a still-reeling Severus Snape.

His thoughts drifted briefly to his meeting with the headmaster the previous day. He had never seen Dumbledore so… disappointed. Dumbledore's disappointment in him was the worst feeling he had ever experienced. He wished desperately that he could take back what had happened. But it was too late for regrets, too much for apologies…

It was time for punishment. He sighed and mounted the escalator.

***

She thought she'd be able to deal with it. She was stronger now, there was no doubt about that. But she wasn't quite strong enough to handle this kind of pain.

After their breakup, he had politely ignored her, opting to neither insult her nor be kind to her in public.

That was all shot to hell now. It seemed like every time she passed him he would have a new nasty thing to say to her. She liked to believe that it was his way of helping her, of trying to keep her strong without weakening them both in a loving relationship.

After the first day she realized how diluted her logic was.

It was still a few days before it began to make her angry. Just what right did he have? After everything, after all of the progress they had made?

And she knew things about him, too. Things that she could use against him. The fact that his arrogance allowed him to believe that she wouldn't… that he didn't think she was strong or clever enough to hurt him… it made her want to use it against him even more.

She considered the possible avenues she had. She could talk to Dumbledore, tell him that Draco was a Death Eater… although then she would have to reveal some of her own activities… that one was a given. She could send him an anonymous letter about Draco's guilt in the Quidditch accidents… that would surely be enough to get him put away…

But then, she didn't want that. She wanted him to hurt. She wanted him to feel like she did.

She could try his jealousy by attempting some sort of relationship with Ron or Harry… But then, that would hardly be fair to them and she didn't really think she could put herself through a relationship with either of them anyway… Not that, at this point, either one of them would react well to the thought of a relationship with her.

Finally, her mind came to settle on the last thing he'd said to her, in their final meeting.

__

"I belong to someone else now."

Maybe the way to Draco was now through Voldemort. She was sure that he wouldn't take kindly to Draco's spreading of information.

But she didn't want him dead. Just hurt. She wasn't sure Voldemort would share her feelings on the matter.

Did he even have feelings?

She sighed. Alright, so none of the options seemed viable. Perhaps this is why he hadn't expected her to act on what she knew. He knew that she wouldn't be able to.

The thought infuriated her. There had to be another way. She didn't want to simply play the tattletale. She smiled. That was how it had all begun.

But she wanted action. What could hurt Draco?

After awhile, she smiled. She had been skipping over what she should have assumed all along. Draco loved her. She didn't doubt it, as many insults as he threw at her. At the same time, he underestimated her. He didn't think she was powerful enough to be what he was. He wasn't seeing her as an equal.

She frowned. Maybe her logic was backwards. Maybe he was overestimating her. Maybe he envisioned her as too strong of a person to become a Death Eater.

She shook her head. Regardless, Draco loved her. Probably more than he loved himself… After all, she didn't see how he could put himself through what he was if he did really love himself. But her… when she had been in danger, he had nearly exploded with rage. She had never seen him as upset as he had been the night she returned from Hogsmeade… The night she had killed a man.

She shuddered, pushing back the memories and concentrating on new ideas.

She spent several hours tossing and turning in her bed before she decided. 

An old Muggle saying had been replaying in her head; 'If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.' 

She was going to become a Death Eater. She was going to subject herself to pain and learn from it. She was going to become weaker than she had ever been, yet she would eventually become powerful enough to defeat the Dark Lord. She was going to go against everything she had ever stood for. 

She was going to kill Hermione Granger.

And Draco would feel the loss.

***

Draco could do nothing but lay on the spot to which he had Apparated. He had never ever experienced pain this severe before. The burning in his forearm that reminded him of why he was here seemed almost like relief in comparison. With every ounce of patience and strength left in him, he turned his face in what he assumed was the direction of his Lord.

"You… You wanted to see me, my lord?"

__

He, however, could not see _anything, _aside from searing white-hot pain, and could barely get enough air to breathe, let alone choke out his question.

"Draco Malfoy. You know, I'm sure, why I've called you here tonight?"

Draco flopped his head and hoped that the Dark Lord took it as a nod. He did.

"Explain."

Draco sucked in as much air as possible. "Suspicious… Lord… They were suspicious… And Granger… Granger…" 

Draco stopped himself. What in the hell was he doing? He was about to hand her right over to the Dark Lord. After all he'd done….

"What about this Granger girl, Draco? I thought you said she meant nothing to you."

Draco sucked in some more air. "Yes, but I… She… I'm important to her… I could…She's close to Potter…"

He stopped to get more air. The Dark Lord did not speak but Draco thought he felt some of the pain lessen. Of course, he might just have started to become delirious. That was the only excuse for what he was doing right now.

"I thought she could… If you had him here Lord… Much easier than through Hogwarts… I… I'm sorry my Lord. I feel as though I've failed you."

The pain suddenly stopped. Draco took as many deep breaths as he could, not knowing if it would start again. He started to hyperventilate. Voldemort murmured something and he felt himself relax.

"Draco, I am severely displeased with your lack of respect for me. The fact that you would simply sacrifice years of our hard work… It shows a complete lack of loyalty and respect. Not to mention intelligence…"

Draco wondered wildly if these were the last moments of his life.

"But… I do think it was clever of you to recognize an advantage and want to use it as an opportunity to assist me and take down Potter. Although I am not entirely sure of your true intentions towards this Mudblood girl, I will allow you to bring her to me. When we have Potter, you may have her. Consider it a great gift, as my mercy should be enough payment."

Draco took a deep breath and threw himself at Voldemort's feet. "Yes. Of course. Thank you my Lord. Thank you."

Voldemort nodded and waved his hand, which Draco took as a cue to leave. Before he could Apparate back to Hogsmeade, however, the Dark Lord stopped him again.

"Oh, and Draco… I should be interested in speaking to you later about why exactly you taught this Mudblood about the Dark Arts."

Draco froze, swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes, my Lord."

***

Harry bit his lip and attempted once again to concentrate on his History of Magic essay. He couldn't draw his attention away from the portrait hole, however. He wanted them to come back. Either one of them. Ron had wandered off hours ago, muttering something about seeing Dumbledore. It concerned him that he had yet to return. He assumed that it had something to do with Snape's accident in the Potions' class the other day, but as he hadn't yet been recovered when it occurred he wasn't entirely sure.

He was reasonably sure that Hermione had gone to bed long ago, but he wasn't positive. Especially if she _had_ been sneaking around to see Malfoy in the past few months. Now…. _Now_, he realized with a small amount of nausea, he didn't trust her. He didn't believe Hermione when she said she was going to bed. He didn't believe her when she said things were over with her and Malfoy.

He didn't even know if she loved him anymore. He _wanted_ to believe it. Desperately. But he didn't know. And he was afraid to ask her.

He sighed, pushed up his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He had to get back on track. He had missed entirely too much school in his daze to skive off homework now.

Harry had just finished the introduction to his essay when his redheaded best friend climbed through the portrait hole and collapsed.

***

"Ron! Ron!" Harry winced at the squeak in his own voice, but didn't slow his step as he rushed over to a prostrate Ron.

Ron flipped over so that he was facing Harry and forced a weak grin. "I'm alright. Just tired."

Harry narrowed his eyes. He began to put his hands on his hips, but realized just how much of a Molly Weasley action that was and instead ruffled his hair.

"Ron. I'm not an idiot. Don't play dumb with me. Something's definitely wrong. What happened?"

Ron took a deep breath and lumbered to his feet. He only made it a few steps into the common room before he collapsed into an armchair. Harry was almost positive that Ron was going to ignore him until he heard him speak, in a very low voice.

"Occlumency."

Harry swallowed hard and took a seat across from Ron.

"Why are you messing around with Occlumency, Ron?"

Ron sighed and rubbed his face. "I can't tell you. Hell, I shouldn't even be talking to you. I just… I didn't know you'd get better so soon. And now… Well now I'm in a situation. And Harry…"

Ron paused and brought his hands away from his face, meeting Harry's gaze. Harry didn't miss the tears filling Ron's eyes.

"Harry… I'm sorry. For everything that might and will happen from this point on. I'm sorry, and I can do nothing but beg for your forgiveness. But this might very well be the last time that you ever hear such a sentiment from me. I love you Harry, no matter what happens. Please remember that."

Harry furrowed his brow. "What happened, Ron? You can tell me. Remember me? Harry. Harry Potter. It's okay. Whatever it is, it's okay. I'll forgive you. You're… You're like my family, Ron. Nothing will ever change that."

Ron sighed and pulled himself shakily to his feet. "Just please remember what I said. Goodnight Harry."

Harry watched his best friend climb the steps to their dormitory, treating each one as if it was its own staircase and wondered desperately what was going on.

***

The following morning found Hermione in the library with the rising of the sun.

Now that she had had some time to think, she had no idea how she would go about becoming a Death Eater. It wasn't exactly the sort of thing that you could find a want ad for in the Daily Prophet.

She sighed and continued her rummaging through her schoolwork. She had come to the library more for thinking than actual working. She had been toying with the idea of practicing some wandless magic, but decided that she needed to focus on solving the Death Eater problem first.

"Let's see… Who could…" She frowned. No. Not him. Her thinking had continuously been bringing her full circle back to Draco. There was absolutely no way she could approach him about this. After all, wasn't this all about hurting him?

She frowned again. Now, in the musty, sunlit library, her logic wasn't as clear as it had been last night. What the hell was she doing?

"Granger."

Her shoulders stiffened. She prepared herself for whatever insult he could find to throw at her now. 

Evaluating her response as a negative one, Draco decided to try a different approach. "Hermione."

She took a deep breath and continued facing forward, refusing to give him the benefit of her full attention. "What, Malfoy?"

He sighed and pulled out the chair next to her. His hand brushed her thigh as he did so and she shivered.

"Hermione… Please… You must understand."

She sighed and put her head in her hands. "Yea, whatever. I wasn't important enough for you to risk your reputation on. I understand. I meant nothing to you."

She hated herself for this manipulation, but she wanted to hear him say it. She _needed_ to hear him say it.

"Bullshit. After you - Hermione. Granger. You gave me up for _Potter_. Potter. Fucking Scarhead Potter. And then I gave you up to save your life _and_ his and you're going to tell me that _I'm_ the one that doesn't care about _you_? You're insufferable."

Her mouth dropped open slightly. She closed it again. She couldn't really argue with what he was saying. She laid her head down on her hands, burying her face in the shadows of her folded arms. "I'm sorry."

Draco pulled her shoulders towards him, forcing her to pull away from the table. He tilted her face up towards his. "Hermione. It's okay now. Everything is going to be okay now."

She frowned. "How?"

Draco bit his lip. This was going to be impossible. Hermione wouldn't even date him because she didn't want to betray Harry. So how, exactly, was he going to convince her to go have a visit with Voldemort?

"I.. erm.." Draco sighed and scratched his head.

"Why have you been treating me so abominably lately? How is that fair? How is everything going to be okay _now_?"

Draco's face turned a little pink. "Merlin."

  
He took a deep breath and plunged into explanation, focusing his gaze on the table. "I… You see, I wanted to protect you. Voldemort…" He lowered his voice before he continued. "The Dark Lord… He wanted you dead. He wanted my father to kill you."

Hermione gasped. "But why? Why even take notice of me?"

Draco didn't answer for a while. Hermione was beginning to wonder if she should ask him again when he finally spoke, in a very low voice.

"You were the only thing saving Harry from total uselessness. Whenever you were there, he'd be okay. So he wanted to make sure you wouldn't be there anymore."

Hermione allowed the words to sink in, let the connections form in her brain and finally allowed herself to put two and two together.

"Why did you make the curse work that way? Why put me in that kind of position?"

Draco grimaced and by the tightness in his lips, she could tell that he didn't want to answer her. Very softly, very reluctantly, he answered her.

"It had nothing to do with the curse, Hermione. Potter surprised us all, and bested the Dark Lord once again with his overgrown heart."

Suddenly, Hermione was very uncomfortable. She wanted nothing more than to melt into the floorboards and escape this awkward situation.

She coughed and attempted to force the blush from her face. Finally she looked up at Draco, the need to spill her guts to him suddenly overwhelming her.

"You know… I wanted revenge on you for the way you treated me."

Draco nodded, as if he had expected as much.

"Only… I wasn't entirely sure how to go about it. So… erm… Last night…"

Draco intensified his gaze, expectantly. She noticed some dread clouding his eyes.

She swallowed and continued. "Last night I decided that I was going to… Well… become a Death Eater. "

Draco continued staring at her, apparently at a loss for words. This made Hermione feel extremely stupid, and in her embarrassment, she rushed ahead.

"Of course, this was very late at night and once I had time to think about it today, when I was down here, I realized how idiotic and impossible that would be, and how little it would benefit me, and I suppose everyone comes up with stupid ideas sometimes, so I guess I'm just glad I didn't act on -"

Draco grabbed her arm, shocking her into silence. "Hermione. What did you just say?"

When she didn't respond, he lowered his voice. "You were considering becoming a Death Eater?"

She opened her mouth and by the glint in her eye and the flush in her cheeks, he knew another explanation was soon to spew forth. He placed a finger over her lips, shushing her.

"Yes. Hermione. I'm supposed to take you to Voldemort. If you go willingly, I'll take you. If not…"

Draco dropped his gaze and drew his arms away from her, running his hands through his hair. "Well, let's just say I've lived a good life and I'm willing to go out with a bang."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Please. No melodrama. Like you'd honestly sacrifice your entire life so that they could capture me anyway. You'd never do something so stupid."

Draco was staring at her, an odd smile playing upon his lips.

"What?"

He grinned and she felt warmth rush through her at the very action. She had forgotten what his smiles did to her.

"Hermione, my dear… It seems as though you've not an ounce of Gryffindor stupidity left in you. As a matter of fact… I'd even hazard a wager that you're at least partially a Slytherin at heart."

She twisted her lips in a show of disgust and tutted at him as if he had insulted her, but Hermione felt a strange rush of pride at his words.

***

Hermione swallowed and smoothed out her hair once again. Draco laughed softly. She shot him the nastiest look possible, although it did little good. The shadows of Hogsmeade obscured their faces fairly well from each other's view.

"Are you done primping? I'm sure the Dark Lord will be oh so flattered at your apparent interest in him."

She scowled and stepped towards him, grasping his cloak. She didn't miss the slight gasp he had tried to hide.

"Portkey, Malfoy."

He grimaced and nodded to the empty butterbeer bottle at his feet. Just as she reached for it, however, he caught her arm.

"Hermione…"

"What?"

"I don't feel very good about this."

She looked up, and found his eyes, a reflection of the moonlight. They were pools of icy intensity, and right now they were filled with concern.

"Draco. It's okay. We have to do this."

He sighed. "Have you been practicing your wandless magic?"

She nodded and tried to ignore the twisting in her stomach that was vehemently denying her statement. Sure, she'd practiced. She'd practiced all sorts of spells. None of these spells would be the slightest bit of help against Voldemort, though, and she knew it. What would she do, shine her fingertips at him? Cheer him up?

Not bloody likely.

Resolutely, she bent to retrieve the portkey and lifted it to Draco's waiting hand. A few seconds passed before she felt the familiar, dizzying tug at her navel. Neither Draco nor Hermione was able to remain standing, and Hermione found herself lying on top of Draco in what appeared to be Voldemort's study.

She pushed herself off of him quickly and scrambled to her feet, searching for the Dark Lord. She noticed a chair in the corner, cloaked in shadows, but with a large, rather royal looking snake at its feet. Quickly, she touched down on one knee, facing the chair, and awaited instruction. She noticed Draco doing the same out of the corner of her eye.

"Very good. Draco, you may go. I will call you when I require your services again."

She noticed him tense and freeze. Before he could object, she moved her foot behind her, kicking his. 'Please, Draco. Oh, please leave.'

She didn't want to imagine what would happen if he disobeyed Voldemort. Draco seemed to follow her line of thought, and very obviously regretting it, he nodded, stood, and Apparated out of the study.

Now she was alone. With Voldemort and a snake. She suddenly felt a wave of respect for Harry wash over her. He had done this… Several times before.

She shook her head. She was here willingly. She was just intimidated. 

She felt, rather than heard, the cold laugh emanating from the shadowy chair. "No worry, my dear. It is quite all right to be intimidated. And actually, in your case, it's even acceptable to have warm feelings towards Potter."

She swallowed and wondered if it was generally allowed to ask the Dark Lord questions. Before she could worry this thought further, a door opened to her left.

"Oh, my dear Lucius. I'd like you to meet Miss Hermione Granger. Hermione, you may stand."

Hermione stood very shakily and turned towards Lucius. He had a very strange look in his eye as he leaned forward slightly, bowing.

Voldemort seemed to hiss with delight.

"I see you two have met before. Excellent. Lucius, take Miss Granger to her quarters. Hermione, we will continue this discussion later."

Hermione's mouth opened slightly and before she could stop herself, she found that she was in mid - speech. "What are you-"

She swallowed and bit her lip. "I'm sorry, my Lord. I just did not realize that I would be staying here. I thought that… Well… Perhaps…"

"You thought that you would be initiated? That you would just show up here and I'd make you one of my own? After years of friendship with Potter? And at our very first meeting? Did you really think that it would be that easy? No, my dear. You're not here to be initiated. You're here… Well… We will discuss this some more tomorrow. Goodnight, Miss Granger."

Hermione took a deep breath, bowed and followed Lucius from the room.

***

Ron was not expecting the still-unfamiliar burning in his arm that night. The pain roused him from his sleep.

"Oh, shit."

He was far too exhausted from his practice with Dumbledore earlier that day. He would most certainly not do well to face Voldemort tonight. On the other hand, not showing up would not be any sort of bonus for him later on. He sighed, rolled out of bed and hastily pulled on some robes, grabbing his wand from the nightstand.

He decided a light jog might improve his well-being, and ran all the way to Dumbledore's office. The headmaster was waiting for him there, in his stocking cap, with a cup of tea and one of the largest hunks of medi-chocolate Ron had ever seen.

"Good evening, Mr. Weasley. A pleasure to see you again. Of course, I hadn't expected it to be so soon and under such circumstances, but no matter. It is, of course, still a delight. Have a seat."

Ron took a seat and began choking down the medi-chocolate. The warmth it provided worked wonders on his aching body, but it did little for the extreme burning in his arm. 

"You did well today. You're getting much better at dealing with your hatred of Severus."

Ron nodded and swallowed before speaking. "I know that it's wrong, but I'm still not sure why we needed to work on it so much. After all, doesn't Voldemort hate Snape now too?"

Dumbledore nodded and sipped his tea before he spoke. "Ron, if your hatred for Severus Snape overwhelms you to such an extent, you can imagine my concern over what your hatred for Voldemort could do. I should like to think that you like your Potions Master just a tiny bit more than Lord Voldemort."

Ron finished his tea, stuffed the remaining medi-chocolate in his pocket and stood. "Thank you, Headmaster. I'll report as soon as I return."

Dumbledore nodded and watched Ron stroll from his office. There was not a twinkle in his eye or a smile on his lips. Albus Dumbledore suddenly felt as though he was sending an unarmed boy into a war of men.


	13. The Game of Pain

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is totally and completely not mine.

Author's Notes: 

Many thanks to Jennifer, my fantastic beta, once again.

And of course, to my reviewers; Kou Shun'u, FEAngel258, PolishPrincess, Blanche Dubois, Frozen Darkness, Varda, RaveN MiZt, Windkull, beachLEMON, and devils chick1… You all brought me so many smiles. And oh, the flattery… I'm speechless. Thank you. I'm really glad that you're enjoying the saga. And Kou Shun'u, as much as I love to write, I'm sure I'll end up talking myself into writing another overly involved story if I don't write a sequel to this. Thank you so much for all of your kind words and encouragement. *insert smile here*

I've actually finished DSOL in its entirety and am currently in the process of editing Chapter 14 and the epilogue. Thanks for being so patient with Chapter 13.

Also, I'd like to make a note about Apparating. I realize that in the wizarding world, one cannot simply wake up one day and possess the ability to Apparate. It's something they have to train for and get licenses in. In this particular piece of fanfiction, this occurs the summer before sixth year for most of our characters. I also think that Apparation is probably something the Dark Lord makes sure his Death Eaters know right away, regardless of age or license. 

So there is no popping without reason here. I promise. Please, work with me.

Sorry about the long author's notes! I really hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Leave me a review and let me know what you think. 

~~~~

"Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up."   
_- Bible: Ecclesiastes _

~~~~

Hermione rolled over again, viciously kicking the sheets charmed to soothe her. She wanted no soothing. And why was Lucius so concerned with her welfare anyway?

__

I'm sorry, my Lord. 

Something was wrong here.

__

I just did not realize that I would be staying here. I thought that… Well… Perhaps…

Very wrong. This was certainly not how she had envisioned her night. 

__

You thought that you would be initiated? 

It was funny, in a way, when she considered what she _hadn't_ experienced, and what she _wanted_. She hadn't gotten the Dark Mark. She hadn't experienced any kind of pain.

__

That you would just show up here and I'd make you one of my own? 

So why was she so distressed?

__

After years of friendship with Potter? 

Because the Dark Lord was being kind to her. 

__

And at our very first meeting? 

Why? What were his plans for her? Why did he want her here? If he wasn't going to kill her, torture her, or make her one of his Death Eaters, why was she here?

__

Did you really think that it would be that easy? 

So now she couldn't sleep. Now she was tossing and turning, and thinking about the Dark Lord, and worrying… Now she was worrying about Draco too. She felt a pain in her chest when she considered him.

__

No, my dear. 

They had just begun to get close again... Wasn't she getting him back? Last night it had all seemed so clear. Wouldn't they be together now? United under the bond of Voldemort's dominion?

__

You're not here to be initiated. 

How sick. She realized suddenly, painfully, that she didn't want that with Draco. If she had Draco, she wanted him all to herself, everyone else be damned. 

__

You're here… Well… 

She closed her eyes slowly. Why did she ever think anything else mattered? It was all about him. All about Draco.

__

We will discuss this some more tomorrow. 

After years of friendship with Potter.

__

Goodnight, Miss Granger.

***

Ron lay in front of the gates of Hogwarts, unable to so much as lift his arm. The pain coursing through him at this very moment was only a reminder of what _Crucio_ had felt like, but it still hurt a hell of a lot more than anything Ron had ever before endured. 

He had to move. He had to find Harry. He had to warn him. But first, he had to move from this spot. If he didn't… Well… 

If he didn't move, Ron knew he would soon be dead. 

With every ounce of his will, he concentrated on ignoring the pain and lifting himself, or at least pushing himself through the gates. The gates… Well, the gates symbolized safety. He didn't know if they actually worked like that, if he would be safe once past them, but it was worth a shot.

This was like a Full Body Bind. With the exception that every inch of Ron's body felt as though it was on fire. On the inside.

He grimaced. He couldn't think about the pain. Oh, Merlin, he had to move.

His arm lifted slightly off the ground, before falling again. Good. Alright. What could he do with this?

Would Occlumency be of any use right now? Ron wasn't sure if he could concentrate that hard. But he had to try. 

With a deep breath, he managed to lift his wand arm.

***

Severus Snape tumbled gracelessly from his bed. Cursing violently and clutching his head, he rolled, furiously, to a sitting position.

Fucking Weasley. This was it. Dumbledore would hear no end to this -

Was he in trouble? Amidst the slowly weakening stinging in his brain, Professor Snape found a faint call for help. Had Ron been called last night?

Oh no. 

Snape scrambled to his feet, grabbed a hand full of floo powder, and in a matter of seconds, was rushing out the entrance hall in his nightshirt towards the gates and Ron's prone figure.

***

Voldemort grinned and Hermione wanted desperately to vomit.

Instead, she forced her own smile and bowed. "You wished to see me, Lor-…my Lord?"

Voldemort laughed. 

"Hermione Granger… Mudblood extraordinaire. Please do have a seat."

Hermione swallowed nervously and glanced around her at her surroundings, finally choosing a rather severe looking straight-backed chair across from the Dark Lord.

"Thank you."

Voldemort stretched languidly in his armchair and examined his hands for a few minutes. Hermione wondered if she had been wrong all along, and he was going to kill her.

Finally, after several minutes, he turned his attention back to her.

"I believe you know Ronald Weasley?"

Hermione tried to breathe but couldn't seem to find the air. With all of the oxygen she could muster, she managed a whisper.

"Yes sir."

Voldemort's countenance became suddenly serious. "Were you aware of his attempt at spying on me?"

'Oh, God. Ron's dead. Ron's dead, Ron's dead, Ron's dead. Dead dead dead dead dead.'

"No sir. We haven't been very close as of late."

"Yes. He tried to lead me to believe it had something to do with your heritage. What a silly boy. As if I'd ever really allow a good friend of Potter's to enter my ranks. Sad, really, how dense those insipid Weasleys are."

Voldemort sighed deeply, as if the very thought of Ron's stupidity was taxing.

Hermione waited to hear him tell her how he had murdered Ron, how she would be next… She only had a few minutes to live now - she had to use it well. 

What would happen to Draco?

The Dark Lord's hissing interrupted her thoughts. 

"It's no matter. He won't even make it past the gates. Even if he did, I doubt it would do anything but further my cause. And you're here, now. I think you're worth a lot more in Potter's book than the red headed imbecile."

Hermione closed her eyes and focused her breathing. When Voldemort didn't continue, she opened her eyes. He was watching her, a curious grin playing on his lips.

"You're wondering what will become of you?"

Hermione found that she was able to nod, and did so.

Voldemort leaned back luxuriously in his chair. "You'll be staying here. And eventually, the glorious, heroic, Boy Who Lived will attempt his gallant rescue of you. Once he comes and once he dies, we will determine your fate. I believe that Draco Malfoy is rather fond of you. Depending on how useful he is to me in the meantime, he may be able to decide what happens to you. Of course, once you bring me Potter, I'll really have no use for you."

He had returned his attention to his fingernails. Hermione fiddled with the hem of her skirt, her mind flying.

Ron was already dead. Harry was going to die. 

She furiously attempted to block the memories of the past six years that were flowing unbidden into her mind. A small "pop" stirred her from her reverie, and she looked up to find Draco kneeling before his master.

Voldemort muttered something she couldn't decipher, and Draco stood, approached her chair and held out his hand. "Come, Hermione."

She took his hand gingerly in hers and swayed shakily to her feet, allowing the guidance of Draco's strong arms to help her from the room.

***

Ron awoke to a very surly Madame Pomfrey pouring foul-tasting Pepperup Potion down his gullet. He was quite surprised when he didn't choke, and even more surprised at the scowl he received for his efforts.

"Honestly. Just a boy, and Albus sends you off to such a creature. I may be able to cure you, but I'd rather not if it will keep you here, where you're safe."

Ron winced as a brief shot of pain raced through his right side. He wanted to argue with her, but he found that he had neither the strength nor the energy to open his mouth. Instead he closed his eyes.

"Ron, I will not deny you your sleep right now, but I would like to hear from you as soon as you are able to speak with me."

  
He recognized the comforting tone and quiet voice of Dumbledore and opened his eyes. With a great amount of effort, he took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

"Vold…"

His speech was halted as another surge of pain racked his body. After another deep breath, he attempted speech again. "…has Hermione…"

Ron took several breaths and pushed on, ignoring the pain. "Wants to lure Harry."

Exhausted, he fell back against his pillow and closed his eyes, listening to Pomfrey's rushed reprimands as she bustled past Dumbledore to administer some more Pepperup Potion.

After she had doused his tongue with enough to permanently damage his taste buds, Ron felt well enough to speak again. He found that his headmaster was still waiting by his bedside.

"…never believed me…knew I was a spy… using me to get to Harry…"

Ron closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. When he opened them, Dumbledore's head was in his hands. When he finally lifted his face from his hands, there were glimmering remainders of tears on his cheeks. 

"What have I done?"

Ron knew this question wasn't directed at him, but was nonetheless surprised when his headmaster stood from his seat and was gone.

***

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in the hot robes. She was going to be alone with Lucius. The thought was already making her uncomfortable. Even when there were other people in the room, even when Draco was holding her, if he was nearby she would feel his eyes on her. She always felt so cheap, like a tacky new adornment for his son. She felt as though he was constantly sizing her up, pricing her.

She had tried to talk to Draco about it, but things had come out all wrong and he'd ended up screaming at her about prostituting herself to his father.

He obviously didn't understand. It had nothing to do with that. But, unable to articulate it properly, she decided it was best to leave things be.

So now, here she was. Left behind with Lucius while the others Apparated and flooed to Surrey for a bit of a pow-wow with some Aurors.

He cleared his throat and she looked up to find him pouring himself a glass of scotch. Voldemort had fine taste in Muggle liquor. She scowled and wondered how much the Dark Lord would appreciate Lucius helping himself.

He smiled and raised his glass. "Would you like one, my dear?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't think Lord Voldemort would appreciate you depleting his stock in such a manner, my Lord."

Lucius quirked an eyebrow at her. "I'll thank you to remember that this is my study, not the Dark Lord's, _milady_."

She felt herself flush, but remained determined to not be embarrassed. "Well, then. Pour me one as well please."

Lucius' lip twitched into somewhat of a smile as he filled a second glass. He sauntered over to where she sat on the couch and presented her with her glass. She smiled and accepted and he took a seat next to her.

She shifted slightly away from him, images and fears of Lucius flowing unbidden into her mind.

He chuckled. "Now, now my dear. I'm certainly not going to ask you to commit any acts undignified for a proper lady."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "And I certainly wouldn't obey."

"Now, now Miss Granger. There's no need to be rude. I do think that Draco would want us to get along, now wouldn't he?"

Hermione stole a sidelong glance in his direction. To her surprise he appeared to be completely sincere. "Well, yes. Although I don't see how that is possible, what with your reputation for extreme bigotry towards people from non-wizarding families."

"You tell me this, as if Draco was not guilty of the same."

Hermione turned her full attention to Lucius. "You're nothing like Draco."

"How do you presume to know anything about me?"

She glanced down at her shoes and blushed. He was right. She didn't know anything about him. She just knew that she didn't like him, and she wanted to justify it in any way she could.

"Are you saying that you're not prejudiced against wizards and witches from Muggle families, then? What about Gryffindors? Are you saying that you don't care about my house or my parentage? That I'm as acceptable as a _pureblood_ Slytherin witch?"

Lucius regarded her carefully for a while in silence. Finally, he downed the last of his scotch, and, setting the glass aside, he turned towards her again.

"I'm saying that you are good enough for Draco. I'm saying that, for right now, you are good enough to serve the Dark Lord's purpose. I'm saying that I'm trying to understand why, that I'm willing to make an exception if both my Lord and my son are."

Hermione swallowed and wilted slightly under his intense stare, averting her gaze.

"Oh."

Silence ensued again. She was beginning to accept it as the norm for the continuation of the night when he spoke again.

"Tell me, Miss Granger, is there any way in which you feel you may convince me that you _are_, in fact, worthy of my respect?"

She bit her lip and looked up to find Lucius a bit closer than he had been before. This did nothing to relax her.

"Erm… What, exactly, did you have in mind, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Please, call me Lucius. Mr. Malfoy makes me feel as though I'm some sodding shopkeeper or something."

Hermione smiled. "Alright, Lucius."

It was a rather fun name to say, in spite of the fact that it had, since second year, been eternally linked with such a nasty connotation in her mind.

"You must be quite… er… talented if Draco has shown so much interest in you. I've already heard tale of your academic success, of course."

Hermione swallowed nervously and nodded. "Yes, well… I do rather enjoy school. There's so much else to learn of course. I could spend my entire life studying, focusing on specialty after specialty… Such fascinating things… It's a pity we can't learn about _everything._"

Hermione bit her lip and flushed. She was sure she had been babbling. Lucius hadn't responded. She looked up and found that he was regarding her with somewhat of a smile. "Is that what led you to the Dark Arts, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded and glanced at her hands, which had been twiddling with the still-untouched glass of scotch. Resignedly, Hermione braced herself and raised the glass to her lips. She almost retched in dislike as the liquid hit her tongue, but as she forced it down her throat, she decided that she enjoyed the warmth it left behind in its wake.

Lucius laughed and Hermione found that it was a pleasant sound, not at all like the cold disdain his voice usually conveyed. She smiled and met his eyes. "Care to let me in on the joke?"

He shook his head in disbelief, gathered their glasses and stood, making his way over to the bottle of scotch and humming all the while.

"Could I - " Hermione blushed and dropped her voice, "erm… Never mind."

  
Lucius smiled and brought her the second glass of scotch she hadn't been able to ask for. As he handed her the glass, their fingertips touched. Hermione mumbled an apology and looked up to find him watching her, his steely blue eyes - _Draco's_ steely blue eyes - focusing their intensity on her. It didn't make her as uncomfortable anymore. Now she felt… Worthy?

She swallowed, tore her gaze away, and tossed the contents of the glass down her throat.

It still warmed her, but she couldn't taste it as strongly.

***

Harry angrily flung another tee shirt into his bookbag. It wasn't as if he was stupid. Did they think he just wouldn't notice? That he wouldn't get it? It wasn't that hard to put two and two together.

Hermione had been seeing Draco Malfoy, Mr. Evil himself. They had broken up, and now she was missing.

Harry himself had been under a dark curse for the entirety of their relationship, incapacitating him from instilling any good sense into Hermione.

Ron had been studying Occlumency, disappeared for a night, and returned in such a state that he was still in the hospital wing three days later. Harry had been to see him. There was nothing obviously wrong with him, other than a certain amount of weakness and odd shudders that his body undertook every so often.

He knew exactly what had happened. Draco, in a fit of rage over his and Hermione's breakup, had abducted her and taken her directly to Voldemort. Ron had witnessed the abduction and followed them, only to be tortured with the Cruciatus Curse and narrowly escaped. 

Now, the only thing plaguing Harry was why, exactly, nothing was being done to save Hermione. Surely Ron had told them. Dumbledore should know where she is, and he should have had her rescued. He could, at the very least, have told Harry what happened. But, on the contrary, no one seemed to give a goddamn whether Hermione was dead or alive.

Well, Harry did. Harry cared and he was going to rescue her. He was going to kill that fucking Malfoy… Hell, he'd kill Voldemort if he needed to. All that mattered was her.

He paused, packed bag slung over his shoulder and invisibility cloak in hand, on the threshold of his dormitory. He glanced back at his desk and briefly considered scribbling them a note.

No, he wouldn't leave a note. They would know. How could they not? Of course he was going to save her. That's what he was supposed to do.

First, he had to talk to Ron. It would definitely benefit him to find out where he was going before he left, although he was sure that Voldemort would be quick to find him should he wander out into the open streets of Hogsmeade in the middle of the night.

He didn't want to go in that way, though. This was going to be on his terms.

His thoughts were interrupted by a small voice.

"Harry?"

He turned to find a very flustered Ginny staring up at him, eyes threatening tears. He was reminded strongly of the Ginny he had known his second year here.

"What, Ginny?"

"I… I think I've… I did something wrong…"

"What happened? Is it Ron?"

She swallowed and paled slightly at the mention of Ron. She watched Harry for a few more minutes before averting her gaze to the floor.

She nodded slowly. "Yea, it's Ron. Should have been there."

Harry felt a wave of camaraderie with Ginny wash over him, so much so that it overpowered his sense that she wasn't being entirely truthful with him.

"It's alright, Gin. I'm going to fix everything. It's all going to be okay now."

Resolutely, Harry stepped out of the portrait hole, swung his invisibility cloak over his head and turned towards the hospital wing. He paused as he began mounting the second flight of steps.

Why not go directly to the source? Harry was sure that Draco was still here. After all, he would need to keep up appearances. With a newfound surge of anger and a determined glint in his eye, Harry turned around and began his descent into the dungeons of Hogwarts.


	14. Battlefield

Disclaimer: I have absolutely no rights to Harry Potter.

It is with great trepidation that I post this chapter.

Alright. This is it. This is the last chapter.

Okay.. Well... there will be an epilogue. It will take place ten years after the current time.

I'll try to post the epilogue quickly. It's because of this that I waited with a completed Chapter 14 before posting it. I cannot, in good conscience, leave you all with Chapter 14 and not update for months on end.

I _do_ have a heart. I promise.

I know you will likely rip me to shreds for this chapter. If you think the Harry and Voldemort scene was too downplayed, if anyone seemed out of character... if some things were redundant or seemed pointless or didn't make sense... Tell me. Review and let it all out. A lot of problems you will likely find have been amended in the epilogue, but some might not be.

The epilogue will throw a lot of information at you. And at the moment, I hate the ending. So it may change. 

Thanks for enduring this long ride with me. I hope that this chapter finds you well. Much love to the reviewers and my wonderful beta, Jennifer, as per usual.

***

"Sometimes your closest friend is your greatest enemy."_  
- Jason Fong_

Draco pulled up the left sleeve of his robes, checking his arm again. He sighed. 'Of course there is nothing there. This is ridiculous. You'll feel it when you're called.'

He frowned as he reflected on what she had told him last night, when he had returned, battered and bruised, from Surrey. Apparently his father was becoming rather… fond of Hermione. Draco had wanted to take her back to Hogwarts with him immediately. Voldemort was one thing… Voldemort keeping her was bad enough. But Voldemort, as crazy as he is, has particular motives. And none of them involve harming Draco's girlfriend.

His father, on the other hand… Lucius was an entirely different story.

The twisting in his stomach reminded him that Hermione was still there. 'Oh, god.'

"Bloody Hell."

He couldn't think like this. 'Back to Potions, Malfoy. Enough of this shit. She'll be fine.'

Once again, he turned his attention to his Potions' essay, and once again he was distracted. This time, however, it was not a self-created distraction. He thought that he heard screaming just outside the entrance to the common room.

With a frown, he straightened his Prefect badge and decided to investigate.

***

It wasn't until Harry reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room that he realized he didn't know the password. After trying a few of his own creation, such as _Pureblood, Smarmy Gits_, and finally _Slytherins are a bunch of self-righteous, greasy bastards_, he began pounding his fists against the cool dungeon wall, screaming in frustration.

Quite suddenly, the wall moved out from under his fists. He just barely prevented himself from tumbling into Draco Malfoy.

"Potter. Care to explain why you are making my evening even more unpleasant with both your presence_ and_ your shrieking?"

Harry wanted nothing more than to kill him. Instead, he bent, retrieved his cloak from the dungeon floor and calmly grabbed Malfoy by the lapels, dragging him away from the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

Malfoy was too astonished to put up much of a fight, and Harry managed to successfully slam him into a small corridor of storage rooms.

"And just what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Harry scowled and knelt down, bringing himself as close to Malfoy as he could manage and regaining his grip on Draco's shirt collar.

"Where is she?"

Draco's eyes flashed, betraying only a moment of emotion before his glare turned cold and he regarded Harry with boredom.

"What are you talking about?"

Harry pulled out his wand, shoving it neatly into the space between Malfoy's collarbones, never once loosening his grip.

The second time he spoke, it was through gritted teeth. "I know you don't care about her, but I know you're in love with yourself, so if you'd like to save your own life, I recommend you tell me exactly where Hermione is."

Draco's eyes flashed again and he opened his mouth, but before he allowed himself to respond, he took a deep breath and closed it again.

After a few moments of regarding Harry in silence, he spoke again. "You can't help her."

"BLOODY HELL! I CERTAINLY FUCKING CAN AND WILL. IF IT MEANS MY DEATH, _SO BE IT_. She's worth it. "

His screams were getting shrill, but as long as he kept the tears at bay, Harry didn't mind. He took a deep breath and continued, this time in a hiss.

"Of course you wouldn't understand. What do you know about love? About honor? About her?"

Malfoy broke his gaze, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall behind him. There were a few more moments of silence, for which Harry was unwillingly grateful, as he was able to regain control of himself.

Finally, Draco pulled himself away from the wall and held up a hand. Harry regarded him curiously. 

Draco sighed. "There's too much to tell you, and you wouldn't believe me if I did tell you. Aside from that, it's not my place. She should be the one to explain everything to you. But I will tell you that I _do_ know about both love _and_ Hermione. To me they are the same thing."

Draco sighed again and rushed ahead, preventing the arguments he could see Harry forming in his mind.

"She's with Voldemort. She went willingly. He's holding her in order to bring you to him. He may save her at my request after he kills you, but then, with the Dark Lord, one never really knows. We may all end up dead in the end. So take your fucking honor and give it a go."

Draco reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out what appeared to be a rather flashy Peacock quill. "This is a portkey to Malfoy Manor, where she is being held. You'll arrive just in front of the gates. I believe she is in the west wing, in my room."

Harry stared at Malfoy for a few minutes, regarding the portkey with a great deal of apprehension. Draco rolled his eyes and with his free hand, he shoved Harry's wand away from his throat. In one fluent, graceful movement, he was on his feet. "I've got work to do. Goodbye Potter."

After a deep breath, Harry tucked his wand into his belt, clutched more tightly to his cloak and lifted the portkey from Malfoy's outstretched hand.

***

Ron rubbed his eyes and moved to a sitting position. It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dark, but once they did, he realized that he was not alone.

He cleared his throat, to alert his visitor to his consciousness.

"Very good, Sleeping Weasley. I'm glad you're awake."

Ron stiffened. There were a number of people he had expected to see sitting by his bedside, but Severus Snape was not one of them.

"Um… Professor… Did you need something?"

Snape sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "How very kind of you, Mr. Weasley. No. I was actually coming to check on your well-being, believe it or not." At Ron's stunned silence, he glanced at his feet and continued. "However, I suppose that I might as well ask you why."

Ron bit his lower lip. "Um… Why, sir?"

"Yes, Weasley, why. Why you decided, out of myself, Avery and Dumbledore, that _I_ should be your rescuer."

Ron swallowed and glanced at his hands, which were fiddling with his bedsheets. "I… I don't know. You just seemed like… Like you would understand… You've been there before. And I know that Avery has too, but… Well… He's Avery."

A smirk spread across Snape's face. "Yes, he certainly is. Very well, Weasley. You thought that I would be the most sympathetic to your cause, in spite of the abominable way you've treated me? Very interesting, that in spite of hating me, you thought me a better choice than both a fellow former spy and your Headmaster."

Ron's cheeks flushed. He bit his tongue. 'No. Snape is just trying to provoke you. Don't rise to his baiting. Don't tell him that he treated you badly as well.'

Ron took a deep breath. "Professor, I wonder if perhaps we may come to some sort of peace with one another. I hardly think it's constructive for us to be bickering. And hatred among anyone on our side is nothing but trouble."

Snape's eyes flashed as his face contorted into an expression of extreme surprise. After a few minutes, he nodded. "Alright, Weasl… Ron." He grimaced at speaking Ron's first name. 

Ron was fairly amused at his Potions' Master's attempt.

"Can I call you Severus? Or Snape?"

Snape's grimace turned into a scowl. "I hardly think that's appropriate. As a matter of fact, ten points from Gryffindor for your… cheek."

"Now, now, Severus. Perhaps you should act your age."

Snape turned around to scowl at Minerva McGonnagal, who had just entered the hospital wing, before he stood from his seat and bowed, taking his leave.

Ron smiled. "Hello, Professor McGonnagal."

She smiled and patted his hand, taking a seat next to him. "I'm afraid I have some bad news, Mister Weasley."

***

Harry was prepared for the tug at his navel, and managed to remain standing throughout the trip. It was when he reached his destination that his knees went weak. Intimidating was not the word.

Malfoy Manor was the most frightening building he had ever seen. Very dark stone walls towered well above Harry's range of vision, and the air around the building seemed thicker… darker even, than the atmosphere outside the gates. He half expected Voldemort to materialize from the gloom and wondered how the hell the Malfoys had managed to maintain anonymity among Muggles. With a shiver and a deep breath, he pulled his invisibility cloak over his head and moved through the eerily-open gates, making his way up the road to the mansion.

When he was still 100 meters away, he pulled his wand out of his belt, laid it carefully on the palm of his hand and muttered "Point Me". Upon finding that he was indeed going north, he turned left, hoping desperately that Malfoy had been telling the truth.

Strangely enough, Harry believed him. He began to think about what he'd said about Hermione, and forced himself to stop. 'No. Malfoy doesn't care about her. He's the one that got her into this. I'll deal with him later.'

A very determined Harry finally reached the west side of the mansion, and after some deductive reasoning, hazarded a guess as to which room was Draco's. Now he encountered the problem of how he would reach the third story window. He thought back to where his Firebolt lay currently. An image of a forgotten broomstick resting on his bed came to mind.

He hadn't prepared for this very well. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes, focused intently on the broomstick, waved his wand and muttered "Accio Firebolt".

A few minutes later, he was startled from his concentration by a hard hit from behind. He turned to find his Firebolt resting on the ground. With a smile, he bent and retrieved the broomstick, being careful to keep his invisibility cloak wrapped tightly around him. 

He didn't realize that it was now useless… that anyone watching could clearly tell that he was there.

He didn't know that he was being watched.

***

Voldemort clapped his hands together in an excited fashion that reminded Hermione strongly of a small child.

"He's here."

His voice was nothing more than a hiss, but it still possessed enough coldness to send a chill down her spine. It was nothing compared to the cold wave that hit her when his eyes fastened on her.

"You'll stay here."

Hermione swallowed and nodded as Voldemort swept from the room, Lucius swishing smoothly behind.

She watched the window with baited breath and a slowly-spreading sensation of horror. She didn't have to wait long before it slid open, seemingly of its own accord. A moment later, Harry stood in front of the window, Firebolt and invisibility cloak in hand.

She had never before been unhappy to see him.

"Oh, Harry."

She couldn't manage anything stronger than a whisper. Harry crossed the space between them swiftly, pulled her into his arms for a brief hug, and wordlessly covered them with the cloak. Gently, he took her hand in his and led her to the window. She obediently climbed onto the Firebolt behind him and they flew out of the window, not touching down until they had safely cleared the gates of Malfoy Manor.

Hermione didn't allow her relief to even sink in. This had been too easy. She continued to clutch onto Harry even after they had reached the ground. Slowly he turned to face her, pulling the cloak off and holding out a Peacock quill. Before she could question its purpose, she heard a somewhat familiar voice calling her name.

She turned to see Ron running towards them, waving his arms frantically.

"Wait! Wait, stop!" 

Harry and Hermione paused, waiting until a very breathless Ron reached them.

"Damn it, Harry. You trusted Draco? Don't even think about using that _portkey_."

He spat the word as though it were dirty. After another deep breath, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver Sneakoscope.

"I got here as fast as I could. I'm glad you got her, mate. Here, both of you grab this and it will all be over."

Harry took a deep breath, looked to Hermione and nodded. She bit her lip and reached out her hand. After Harry performed an engorgement charm on the Sneakoscope, they all managed to get a fairly tight grip before the world began to spin. When the spinning stopped, the trio found that they had all managed to remain standing. Oddly enough, when the world stopped spinning, the Sneakoscope did not.

Hermione knew right away that they weren't in Hogsmeade.

***

Ron lay back with his eyes closed until he was sure that his Head of House had left. He wanted nothing more than to be alone right now. 

So, Harry was gone. He'd gone off to play the part of the hero and rescue his very own damsel-in-distress. This was all wrong. It should have never played out this way.

Hermione wasn't ever supposed to get involved, and now that she was, she certainly wasn't supposed to be some helpless victim of the Dark Lord's.

  
And Harry was _not_ supposed to go out and rescue her. He was playing into Voldemort's trap perfectly.

Ron sighed and rolled over, wishing that he could stop things from happening. He wished he could have stopped Harry from going, and that he had been able to save Hermione on his own… He winced, and, upon examining his left forearm, he wished that he hadn't attempted this whole spy business in the first place. Dumbledore had been right, the first time. It was all pointless.

Ron closed his eyes tightly, attempting to will away the pain and regret, but allowing the tears to come on their own.

***

Hermione whirled around, taking in the very empty, very flat field surrounding the trio. No, this most certainly wasn't Hogsmeade. 

When she turned back, intending on questioning Ron, she found him with a very sinister grin on his face. A very sinister, very un-Ron grin.

Oh, no.

When the realization hit her that this was not, in fact, Ron, she stepped in between him and Harry, who seemed, for the first time this year, to understand what was going on. She glared at the Ron imposter. 

"You'll not hurt him."

Harry clutched her upper arms, instilling in her a sense of urgency. Ron's grin disappeared.

"Step aside, girl."

When she failed to do so, he sighed and rolled his eyes. 

"Hermione, please. Move."

She ignored Harry's whisper and remained standing. She had betrayed him for too long now. It was time for some loyalty. It was time for her to protect him. It was her fault that he was here now.

Another grin began to take shape in Ron's features.

"Very well. I'll make this more entertaining."

He closed his eyes, touched his arm and muttered. A few seconds later, a small *pop* announced Draco's arrival.

Hermione's heart fell.

"I will tell you only once more. Step aside, girl."

Ron's imposter, who she could only assume was Voldemort, made a mildly threatening gesture towards Draco with his wand. Draco fell to his knees and closed his eyes.

With a small, sharp breath and a whimper of weakness, Hermione stumbled away from Harry, and fell to her knees as well.

Harry followed her with his gaze, and when she looked up to meet his eyes, the multitude of emotions contained in them was overwhelmed by the sentiment that he now understood. Harry knew exactly how she felt and where he stood with her. He broke their gaze quickly and turned his attention back to his opponent, who was quickly morphing into Voldemort.

"Wasn't that a nice touch? Amazingly enough, the red-headed dolt was useful after all."

Voldemort smiled. A flash of blond in the corner of Harry's vision told him that Draco was looking to Hermione.

"Yea. It was beautiful. How did it feel, being a man?"

Voldemort's smile disappeared. "Potter, I've put up with your existence for long enough-"

"Yet strangely enough, you can never seem to kill me. I don't suppose it's so much your choice, my existence, now is it?"

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, but before he could raise his wand, Harry spoke, swishing his own. A shot of red light darted neatly by Voldemort's shoulder. The Dark Lord smiled.

"Nice try, Potter. Perhaps the shaking in your hand is just an overabundance of confidence."

Harry scowled and managed to narrowly avoid a flash of violet light by throwing himself to the ground. He rolled before he had a moment to second-guess himself and correctly chose his direction, missing another one of Voldemort's spells. He managed to roll to his feet, and, twirling around to face his opponent, shot a stunning spell at the Dark Lord, this time missing only because of a quick Vanishing spell on Voldemort's part.

Distinctly irritated, Harry spoke again. "Now who is a coward? The Dark Lord hiding from a sixth year? Incredible."

He wasn't expecting Voldemort to appear just behind him, nor was he prepared for the _Petrificus Totalus_ that hit him squarely in the back. But he certainly knew the words of the spell that would follow.

Voldemort smiled at the petrified Potter, and walked around to face Harry. "Now it is time for you to follow in your parents' footsteps, little Potter. Avad-"

Hermione had had enough. Through her tears, she watched Harry lose his fight. There was nothing he could do now. He would die.

But not if she had anything to say about it. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes, summoned her power, and waved her hand at Voldemort, shooting him the most powerful Stunning spell she could manage.

When she opened her eyes, the Dark Lord was sprawled most ungracefully on his back. Draco's grip on her loosened and she turned her attention to his shocked gaze.

"Please, Draco. Release Harry. I'm… I'm afraid…"

She didn't have to finish. The Death Eaters hadn't given her back her wand and she was too scared that she would hurt him if she tried wandless magic on him. Draco easily released Harry from the spell, trying to ignore the voices in his mind that told him she hadn't been afraid to try wandless magic on him.

Harry shook himself, looked to Hermione and back at Voldemort, in a somewhat incredulous manner before approaching Voldemort.

Draco watched Harry approach Voldemort and felt a soft touch on his arm. He turned to find a very tearful Hermione watching him, her eyes clearly asking him if he was angry with her. He sighed, shook his head, and strolled away from the field, to its edge. Hermione followed closely behind. She got the feeling that he had been here before.

When he reached the field's edge, Draco stopped and turned to face her. Her face was almost childlike in its fear and innocence. He smiled and swept her into his arms. "Merlin, Hermione. I don't know how you ever doubt my feelings for you. Honestly. Look what a sap you've turned me into."

She nodded and as he pulled away from her, setting her back on her feet, she looked up at him again. Slowly, he leaned towards her, delivering a soft kiss to her forehead. Hermione closed her eyes.

With a determined glint in his eye, Harry walked over to the Dark Lord's immobile body and with the words that had killed his parents, received the most powerful sense of vengeance he had ever hoped for. 

When he was satisfied that there would be no resurrection this time, he turned and followed Draco and Hermione's path to the field's edge.

"I love you, Draco."

Harry paused in his step back towards the couple, turning away. He swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to swallow the pain that such a simple phrase had just created. It had been only a whisper, but its echoes in his head were louder than any screaming could have been. With his bloodstream being overrun by adrenaline, he turned towards them again, reached them in only a few steps, and grabbed Hermione by her arm, spinning her around to face him. 

Draco watched him, seemingly unsurprised, and took a few steps back. Harry didn't have a moment to be thankful for his blonde nemesis' intuition. 

Harry threw down his wand and glared at Hermione with such intensity that she was sure he would bring about the end of the world in his fury. Instead, he grabbed her roughly around the waist, throwing her entire body up against his. He had braced himself for the blow and didn't waver, but pulled her face harshly up to his, capturing her lips in his.

For the first time in her life, Hermione knew what sorrow tasted like. Harry's kiss tasted unmistakably of sorrow, and it wasn't the least bit sweet. It was bitter - almost painfully so - with a desperate sort of thirst. There was such thirst there - for things that had almost been and that would now never be. It was a thirst that had, until now, been filled with anticipation. It was at this point that Hermione realized that Harry had never understood, that day in fifth year, that any chance for romance between the two had been permanently destroyed. He had never acknowledged their breakup, had never accepted losing her, and had never given her up.

A salty taste now permeated the overwhelming sorrow and Hermione found that she was crying. She opened her eyes and, from Harry's shining cheeks, she knew she wasn't alone. She pulled away.

"I'm sorry Harry. I'm so sorry."

He didn't respond. Gruffly wiping his face with the sleeve of his robes, he turned, bent to retrieve his wand, and, with a *pop*, he was gone. Gone from the barren, war-stained field and gone from her life.

***

Draco's arms encircled her, attempting some vestige of comfort. Comfort for both of them. She wheeled around.

"You knew, didn't you?"

Draco refused to meet her gaze. "Knew what?"

"Don't play stupid. You knew that Harry… that he… You knew that he was still in love with me."

Draco sighed and pulled away from her. "Yes. So did Ron. So did anyone who saw you two together. And so should you have, too. I mean, he even told you. I was there. In the dungeons. And then there was the curse… Not pay attention to what I said about his overgrown heart? Not care to remember?"

Hermione cursed. "All this time…" She sighed. "If only…If Ron… Things could have been so different."

Draco scowled. "Sorry if I'm a poor substitute for Harry Perfect Potter."

She glared at him. "It's not about that at all. God." She threw up her hands in frustration, bringing them to her face. Finally she sighed and pulled them down. Tears marked her cheeks.

He sighed and attempted to pull her towards him. She pushed him away and turned her back towards him. He cursed. 

"What? What do you want, Hermione? I try to be harsh with you and you cry. I try to comfort you and you push me away. I don't know what I'm supposed to do here."

She didn't respond for a long time. Draco had just begun to think that she wasn't going to when he heard her speak in a very soft, low voice.

"Draco, I think things were easier before. They just aren't supposed to be this way. I'm supposed to be the perfect Prefect heroine. I'm not supposed to be the bad guy. And with you I am. With you… With you I want to know things and experience things that I should never learn."

Draco seethed. "No. Not this shit again. We've been through this before. Either you love me or you don't. All of that "supposed to" bullshit doesn't mean a damned thing! If you love Harry, you love Harry."

He paused before he spoke again, almost in a whisper. "And you obviously don't love me. So just run on back to him. I'm sure he'll be more than happy to have you."

"Why do you have to be such a bastard?"

He wasn't expecting the harsh words or the angry tone in which they were spoken.

"What?"

She turned around, her eyes flashing dangerously. "I give up. On you. On Harry. On love. I give up. I want no part of it."

She was running down the length of the field before he could even process her words. When he understood what was happening, she was already picking up the Peacock quill portkey Harry had left behind. When he was shouting for her, screaming her name in despair and longing and pain, she was already back in Hogsmeade, running for the gates of Hogwarts. When he wept for her, she was long gone.

***

A/N:

A little note about the portkeys; I realize that they are generally made to appear as some insignificant muggle object, in order to not attract the attention of muggles. In this case, however, the Peacock quill is only suitably flashy enough for a Malfoy, who I'm sure would not intend on having any interaction with muggles at all, and would therefore not need to worry about Muggle perception of his quill. As to the sneakoscope (a functioning sneakoscope, no less), I envision Voldemort as having a specific purpose for that portkey, none of which would include a Muggle spotting it. And I think he's too arrogant to allow his cleverness to go unobserved, so he would want the three of them to know almost instantly that he had tricked them. I don't see him as very patient.


	15. Epilogue

Author's Notes:

I think that what I'll miss more than anything, in the completion of The Dark Side of Love, is all of the amazing reviewers. I couldn't have asked for a better group of loyal reviewers, especially for my first piece of fanfiction. Thanks to the regulars - Kou Shun'u, Blanche Dubois, FEAngel258, Liz Rose, Frozen Darkness, Raven Mizt, Varda, Pumpkins are Evil, devils chick1 - and everyone else who reviewed along the way. Thank you all so much for all of your feedback, questions, support, encouragement to keep going, and even your complaints. I feel as though I'll walk away from this a better writer.

Also, to Liz Rose, Raquel99, Lucki Me, Blanche Dubois, Pumpkins are Evil, devils chick1, spiderqueen156, thepinkspider, moony2187, TiarellaCordifolia, Frozen Darkness, Audrey, Nevavariel, Kylara and hugsalot22990, I enjoyed your Chapter 14 reviews a great deal. I'm going to post individual responses to your reviews as a review myself.

Jennifer is the most amazing beta I could have asked for. In spite of my occasional procrastination and waves of throwing several chapters at her within a short period of time, she always edited well, and edited promptly. Thank you so much for enduring my crazy writing style. I hope that you will consider beta-ing for me in the future, if you have the time.

Without further ado (which I apologize for…the ado, that is), here is the epilogue.

*****

Just because everything is different doesn't mean that everything has changed. 

- Irene Peter

The whole course of human history may depend on a change of heart in one solitary and even humble individual - for it is in the solitary mind and soul of the individual that the battle between good and evil is waged and ultimately won or lost. 

- M. Scott Peck

The bottom line is that (a) people are never perfect, but love can be, (b) that is the one and only way that the mediocre and vile can be transformed, and (c) doing that makes it that. We waste time looking for the perfect lover, instead of creating the perfect love. 

- Tom Robbins, _Still Life With Woodpecker_

She hadn't wanted to know what happened to them all. It wasn't that she didn't care, oh no. It was that she cared too much. She couldn't bear to hear that they were doing badly, that one of them was hurt… even dead. She shuddered at the thought. But what was worse… what haunted her late at night while simultaneously racking her with guilt… What was worse was that she didn't want them to be okay. She couldn't stand it if any of them were happy without her, if they had moved on and forgotten her. She knew that she would never be able to move on. 

She had resigned herself to the life of a hermit. She had gone to Dumbledore, straightaway, and demanded that he hand over her diploma. She had declared any more time spent in Hogwarts a ludicrous waste of her time. Dumbledore, shockingly, had agreed. He had simply smiled, waved her into a seat, and answered, _"Miss Granger, I wondered when I'd be having this discussion with you." _He had, she realized then, known about her interest in the Dark Arts. Who was she kidding? Dumbledore knew everything. At least everything that went on in Hogwarts. They had discussed her recent activities, and he had not only demonstrated infinite patience and understanding in the matter, he seemed to feel almost… guilty. She wondered now, as ludicrous as it was, if he blamed himself for failing not only herself, but also Tom Riddle in the arena of academic challenges.

__

"Of course I understand, Miss Granger. You didn't know where else to turn. But your heart was never really in it, was it?"

No, of course not. 

Well, not completely.

Not anymore.

It had been much too easy to leave school a year early. She had, of course, received glowing recommendations from almost all of her professors (and a letter of acceptable Potions competence from Snape), which earned her immediate acceptance to a University in Paris, where she had no trouble earning qualification as a Mediwitch. It didn't take long for the job to wear her down, however, and after a year in Kenya as a practicing Mediwitch, she realized she had to leave the world of magic behind, if only for a little while. It wasn't only the strenuous aspect of the work which had worn her out, but the memories that even a simple "_Lumos_" triggered. 

Hermione resigned herself to Muggle life and managed to secure a teaching position at a Muggle university in Monaco. She had since done everything in her power to keep busy… to not wonder what had happened back at Hogwarts in her absence, to not think about where they were now, to not think about the other women who could be taking her place…

But Hermione had made her small fortune, her job had lost its urgency and any pleasure she had originally derived from teaching people had since dissipated. Even the beautiful French beaches did little to please her. Now she was at a stalemate. Now she was bored. Now she was lonely. And now her mother was pressing her on the matter of marriage.

She sighed and pulled on a sweater as she headed out onto her backyard beach. The skies were threatening a great deal of rain, and as a result she was alone in finding comfort in the sand and water.

It had been ten years now. Ten long years. More than the whole of her time spent at Hogwarts. One would think that something significant had happened, but it hadn't. Perhaps on paper… Sure, she'd gotten X and done Y but nothing in that time period amounted to Z. 

She sighed and took a seat on the sand, rolling it between her fingers and watching the horizon, as if her ship would come in any minute. It took her a few minutes to realize that she was no longer alone on the beach. She couldn't make out the shape of her quickly approaching companion very well due to his long, beach-unfriendly cloak. But she knew from his stance and his pace that it wasn't a friendly sort of companion. She stood quickly and reached for her wand. But her wand was not at her waist, and hadn't been for many years now. She was surprised that the force of habit still remained, so strong.

Shit.

No matter, though. What about the wandless magic? What about the wandless magic she had not practiced in ten years? The wandless magic that she had earned the power for through the Dark Arts? The wandless magic that she had no right to, that she had since relinquished... Had she lost it? Could you ever truly lose an ability such as that?

She was about to find out.

She closed her eyes and focused her energy, pointing her right hand in the direction of her would-be attacker. Along with the spell came ten years of loneliness, of pain… Ten years of anger at herself and at them… They had pushed her too far… They had loved her too much… They hadn't come after her. They hadn't tried to find her. They didn't care. They were okay without her. They didn't love her enough. _He_ didn't love her enough. Had he ever? With the _"Petrificus Totalus"_ came a sob, but it didn't seem to damage the spell's effectiveness. On the contrary, when she opened her eyes, not only was her attacker frozen, but the entire landscape surrounding her seemed frozen. Merlin this was creepy.

Before she could give the matter much thought, before she could run back to her house for her wand, before she could call for help… Before she could move from where she stood on the beach, the air around her filled with the popping sound that signified Apparition. She whirled around in fear, half expecting to find more men ready to attack her.

Instead, she was greeted with several surly ministry officials.

After a long, embarrassing interrogation and spell reversal, one of the members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad requested her presence back at the Ministry of Magic. She grudgingly agreed, not looking forward to the paperwork they would likely have her fill out… And the officials had all been mysteriously quiet on the identity and purpose of her would-be attacker, whom they had whisked away the instant the spell was reversed.

She didn't appreciate being kept in the dark, but they didn't make her wait too long. 

Once they arrived in the lobby of the MoM, she was ushered into the elevator and taken directly to the Minister of Magic.

***

Neville Longbottom, the youngest Minister since 1640, rubbed his hands fiercely over his eyes. 

"Hermione. It's good to see you. I wish it didn't have to be under such circumstances. Please sit down. I take it you haven't been keeping up with the... _our_ world?"

She swallowed, took the seat in question, and shook her head.

"That's right. Although I thought I remembered hearing about you becoming a Mediwitch?" At her nod, he continued. "But the past few years you've been rather hard to locate."

Hermione smiled guiltily and nodded.

"That may be the only reason you're still alive. I'm glad that we found you when we did. There's so much you have to know, Hermione."

She wasn't sure if it was the fact that this was coming from Neville, that he was Minister of Magic, that she had just frozen an entire landscape, or if it was that she hadn't really been _living_ for awhile now, but Hermione burst into laughter at Neville's statement.

He regarded her with horror. "Hermione?"

She sobered up as quickly as her laughter had begun. "I'm sorry, Neville, but you have to understand…"

"What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. Never mind. Why am I in danger? Who have I made an enemy of?" She didn't ask the question that was repeating in her mind. 

__

Who cares enough to want me dead?

Neville sighed and ruffled his hair. "You remember Ginny, of course."

She could see the involuntary flinch of pain in his face when he spoke Ginny's name. She supposed, as her memory flashed back to Neville's redheaded escort to the Yule Ball, that it was lingering heartache.

She nodded. "Ginny hates me now?"

Neville sighed and shook his head. "Do you… do you remember about… about the Chamber of Secrets?"

Suddenly everything clicked. Hermione didn't need him to finish the story. It was all playing out in her mind. Ginny had loved Tom. Ginny wanted Tom back. Ginny _"had bigger fish to fry"._ Ginny brought Tom back and now the Wizarding world was feeling the wrath of Tom Marvolo Riddle and his fiery, red-haired mistress.

"Oh my god."

Neville looked up at her, surprised at the realization that she had stumbled into so quickly. His face broke into a feeble smile. "You've always been quick. Yes. Tom Riddle has returned."

He took a deep breath. Hermione knew what was coming.

"No. Stop. I can't know - I don't… I can't handle hearing this right now. Don't tell me what happened to them. Don't tell me about Harry and Ron… and… and Draco. Please."

Neville's face contorted into an odd expression. Hermione tried desperately not to read it.

"What do Ginny and Tom want from _me_? Where do I go? What do you need me to do? I'll fight. I'll kill. I'll die. I don't care. Use me if you need me."

Neville stared at her, and Hermione realized that it was probably not normal to have such disregard for one's own life.

Hermione took a deep breath, focused her gaze on her shoes, and attempted to swallow the lump that was steadily growing in her throat.

"Neville… I… I just… I don't have anything to live for. I'm not living. I'd rather die doing something worthwhile than continue to not live."

Neville frowned. "Hermione. I think you should get some rest. Come see me in the morning. We'll talk some more then. We must talk. There are some things you need to know, whether you want to or not. You have to know about Harry and Draco and Ron."

Hermione bowed her head, stood shakily to her feet, shook Neville's outstretched hand, and allowed the ballpoint pen portkey he handed her transport her to her quarters in the Ministry.

  
She was only able to locate the bed before drifting off to sleep.

***

Her dreams had been nightmares. 

Hermione woke up shaking. The more she tried to focus and remember what they'd been about, the more quickly it all slipped from her grasp. She knew one thing, though. The dreams had been about them. She realized now that she had to know. She couldn't run from the truth anymore. She couldn't run from herself anymore. She couldn't run from her heart.

Oh, God. She threw on her robes, grabbed her portkey, and stumbled into Neville's office without so much as a knock on the door. She didn't know that he would be in a meeting, and she certainly never expected to find Harry, Ron and Draco staring back at her.

***

Hermione stood stock still for a solid minute, her hair flying in every direction possible, ignoring the hasty bun that was so feebly trying to contain it. Her face was slowly warming to a brilliant shade of red. The four men stared at her, and no one spoke. Finally, Hermione coughed.

"I…um.. I didn't mean to interrupt. I'm sorry. I'll just be outside."

She turned to go, but stopped even before the four voices called her back.

With a deep breath, she turned back to them, smoothed her robes, pushed back her hair, and smiled. 

"It's good to see you all again."

  
That, her adrenaline-filled veins reminded her, is quite the understatement. Hermione had expected to someday see the corpses of these three men, but never again their living, breathing, bodies.

Ron smiled warmly at her and pushed back his chair, pulling her into a tight hug. "Oh, Hermione. Glad to see you're alright."

She beamed up at Ron, filled with incredible warmth at his kind words, and turned her attention to Harry.

He stared back at her with what could only be described as nostalgia in his eyes. He stood as well. "Welcome back, Hermione. We've missed you."

She welcomed his hug, and tried not to allow her mind to analyze his use of the word "we". Finally, after a lengthy hug and a shared tearful gaze with Harry, she turned to Draco. He wasn't looking at her. Instead, he was pointedly focusing on the desk. She frowned and took a step towards him, intending on telling him exactly what an awful, immature thing this was for him to do, but Harry grabbed her arm. She opened her mouth to protest, but he pressed a finger over her lips and motioned with his head towards Draco. Draco now had his eyes closed, and was speaking to himself.

'Oh, great. He's lost his mind. Excellent.' Hermione thought wryly.

After another minute, however, Draco stopped talking, waved his wand with a muttered spell and opened his eyes, swinging his gaze full on to Hermione. She had forgotten how blue his eyes could be, but she didn't have much time to reflect on it as he threw back his chair, crossed the space between them and swept her into a kiss.

'He may be crazy, but he's still an amazing kisser.'

As a self-reprimand for her last thought, she pushed him away and motioned toward the seat he had previously occupied.

"What was all that?"

Draco coughed and turned, shooting the other three men a questioning look.

Harry and Ron nodded and turned to Neville. Neville sighed. "I already tried to tell her last night, but she refused to hear anything about you three."

The three men in question turned towards her again, small appreciative grins on all of their faces. 

"What say you, Hermione? Willing to hear about us now?"

She felt the blush spreading over her face. Those bastards. "Yes. Of course, don't be silly."

She conjured herself a chair and flopped into it, idly twirling her hair and glancing from one man to the next, awaiting explanation.

Draco took the lead, pushing some paperwork aside and taking a seat on Neville's desk.

"You know, of course, about Tom and Ginny."

Hermione nodded.

"Right. Well. After Voldemort's defeat and your…" Draco paused and glanced at his feet, "your departure… Things were quiet for awhile. The three of us even managed to… well… make peace. I suppose it had a lot to do with both our shared pain at the hands of Voldemort and in our other shared pain."

He looked up at her, but she chose to ignore the end of the sentence, knowing full well that she wasn't ready to confront anyone on _that_ particular facet of their respective relationships.

She nodded and waited expectantly. "And?"

"Alright, so… After graduation… a little over a year afterwards, actually, my Mark began to burn fairly often. It wasn't like being called, but it was rather reminiscent of how it felt when Voldemort was in the room with me. I was a little concerned, as you can imagine, and as Harry and Ron were the only two… Well, aside from you anyway… the only two rational human beings that knew what I'd been through, I contacted them about it. They, of course, weren't helpful in the least."

Harry and Ron both scowled at Draco, and Hermione suppressed a giggle, which earned her a few scowls as well.

"Ron's mark burned at first as well, but it never amounted to anything. Finally, one day, I was called. I decided, "the hell with it" and followed, ending up in the old Riddle house with many of the other former Death Eaters. Tom Riddle stood before us, Ginny lounging luxuriously on a couch behind him. You can imagine the reactions."

Hermione raised her eyebrows and nodded.

Draco smiled. "Now, I, of course, was already in their good book for my… well… tutoring of Ginny."

The three other men shot him dark looks. This time, Hermione joined them in their scowling.

"Yes, well… How was I to know how this would work out? It's not as though I really expected anything to come of it. Even I wouldn't want two Voldemorts running around. Or even just a resurrected Tom. I'm not _that_ much of a sadistic bastard. Anyway, I digress. They kept me after everyone else had left, and told me that they'd like me to essentially be Tom's right hand man. I, of course, agreed, because it's not generally a good idea to disagree with the Dark Lord on such matters."

"When I returned home, I immediately contacted these two. After several days of unproductive cursing and fights, we finally reached this sort of…" Draco smiled.

"…idea." Ron finished quietly.

Harry nodded. "We wanted to defeat them, of course. And we had certain advantages. Each had his own. Draco was in their inner circle. Ron possessed amazing mind control abilities and a link with Ginny, who was still attempting to keep up appearances at that point, and I'm… well…"

"The Amazing, Incredible Boy Who Lived," Draco finished, adding a bow. Harry scowled at his flourish.

Hermione sighed, uncrossed her legs and bit her lip. "So, what, you've been playing games with them for nine years? No one has been able to kill them yet? And why did they come after me?"

All four men shifted uncomfortably. Neville announced his intentions for coffee, and left the office.

Ron coughed. "There have been certain obstacles."

"Such as?"

Harry glanced at Ron before he answered her, concern evident in his gaze. 

'Oh… Ginny…'

"Well… Tom and Ginny… They see you as a threat."

Hermione stole a glance at Ron and raised her eyebrows. "Really, now?"

Draco nodded and sighed. "I've had several screaming matches with them over your abilities." 

He grimaced. "As you can imagine, these didn't end well for me. I told them that you were no good at the Dark Arts and that you'd been steadily losing your abilities since you left. They didn't believe me."

Draco sighed again.

"Tom is terrible with his obsessions, and it got rather frightening, to the point where we decided it would be best if we hid you, in spite of the excellent job you were doing."

Draco gave Hermione the first smirk she'd seen in years. 

"We made Ron your secret keeper."

Ron flashed Hermione a feeble grin.

Draco intensified his gaze on her. "Not that it was easy to track you down, anyway."

Hermione ignored both his stare and his repeated emphasis on her disappearance. She paused, momentarily, and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. The amount of pain the three of them had suffered and her own suffering at not being with them was slowly washing over her, drowning her in a wave of melancholy. Finally, she opened her eyes and regarded Draco evenly.

"Then what?"

Draco sighed, looked over at Ron and paused before he continued. "Tom knew that at least one of the three of us knew where you were. He… Well… "

Draco paused and pushed his hair away from his face with his hands, bringing them down to rub his eyes. Despite his best efforts to hide it, Hermione noted the pained look on his face as he relayed the next bit of information. He had been through hell.

"He… figured out that it wasn't me… so he had Ginny bring him Ron. Obviously, Ron's Occlumency skills are the biggest reason that he was chosen to be your secret keeper. But in the face of Tom Riddle's Legilimency, no one really stands a chance."

Draco took a deep breath and looked over at Ron, who was fiddling with some papers on Neville's desk.

"After I discovered Tom's plan to confront Ron, we managed a week of Occlumency practice with Snape and the preparation of plenty of Aberro potion, counting on Tom using… harsher… methods than Veritaserum and Ron actually did fairly well. Tom tortured Ron for a week straight, at first drawing up nothing but Ron's worst memories of you. Tom began to get angry about that time, and after a day of his full wrath, he knew that Ron knew. It only took him a few more days after that to discover your whereabouts, at which point Ron was on death's doorstep."

"It's beginning to be a bloody theme."

Harry smiled weakly at Ron's muttered comment and patted him on the shoulder.

"But we got you out, and you've recovered extremely well, mate. You're a tougher man than I."

Hermione began to cry.

All three men stopped what they were doing and stared over at her, each shocked back to the present at the sound of her sobs, and each unsure of how to react. Harry leapt into action first, sweeping down to her chair and swallowing her in a hug. After a moment, he pulled away, stepping to the side and allowing Draco to approach her.

Draco slid from the desk, crossed the space between them, knelt in front of Hermione's chair and gently tilted her chin up with his hand.

Slowly and gingerly, he wiped the tears from her cheeks and pushed back her hair. "It's okay. Ron's okay. Look."

Ron stood gingerly and approached her chair as well, a sympathetic smile on his face.

Harry nodded and, catching Hermione's eye, looked to Draco and back at her with a smile on his face.

'Is it possible? All this time… all this time and he's… he's okay.' 

She shook her head.

"All this time I was wallowing in self-pity and I was angry… I was _angry_ with you all because I thought that you had never cared about me. I thought that you had all moved on in your lives without me and that I was so insignificant and that you didn't care enough to try to find me. And all this time, you've been risking your lives to save me."

She looked up to find three shocked expressions. Harry responded with a stare that clearly said, "This is how much I love you."

He loved her enough to let her go.

Ron coughed. "Quite honestly, Hermione, it didn't seem so much like you wanted us to find you too terribly." 

She smiled and turned to find that Draco was staring up at her, his icy blue eyes appraising her carefully. She felt, not for the first time, as though he was reading her soul.

Finally, softly, he spoke. "Why did you leave?"

She looked away. She couldn't meet his eyes. She couldn't sit there and answer _that _particular question, not after she'd just gotten back, not while he was staring at her, and certainly not while Harry was standing beside her. But the cold blue gaze was watching her expectantly and she knew that she had to say something.

"Because I couldn't stay."

Ron laughed and received glares for his effort. He sighed heavily. "Look, we can't get into this now. We have to decide what we're going to do. I assume they know what happened and where she is?"

Hermione realized that his question was directed at Draco, who nodded, still watching her. "Tom told me that he will be 'dealing with matters at the Ministry tonight'."

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

Draco seemed to understand her confusion. "Tom found the Dark Marks to be a bit distasteful and obvious, and developed a sort of mind link that we use to communicate with one another. Not like Legilimency… More like… What did you say the Muggle term was, Harry?"

Harry sighed. "Mental telepathy."

Draco smiled. "Right."

He turned to Hermione again. "That's what I was doing when you came bursting into the office."

"Oh."

Ron sighed. "Right, so, before you know it, Tom Riddle and his mass of followers will be banging down the doors to the Ministry. We can't stay here. He'll start the greatest war the Wizarding world has ever seen if he shows up here. And all he'll want is her."

Hermione shook her head. "Why? I still don't understand. I'm sure there are loads of talented wizards and witches out there who could threaten his position."

Draco laughed. She glared down at him, where he was still kneeling before her. "What?"

"Not many who are so skilled in the Dark Arts that they can perform a wandless _Petrificus Totalus_ that freezes a whole fucking ocean."

Hermione's mouth made a small o before she decided that he was lying. "You're exaggerating. Besides, he didn't know that before."

Harry grimaced. "You didn't tell her about Lucius, Draco."

Draco gave Harry a look that spelled pure hatred. "Let's not discuss my father, Potter."

"But Draco-"

"No."

Harry sighed and threw up his hands in frustration. He opened his mouth to object again, but Hermione beat him to the chase. "What about Lucius, Draco?"

When he failed to respond, she grabbed him roughly by his shirt collar, pulling him up to meet her face and positioning his body awkwardly between her legs.

"What does your father want with me?"

Draco swallowed. "My father…"

He took a deep breath. "Do you remember all those things you said about him sizing you up? And what you told me about the night when I came back from Surrey and you two were drinking Scotch together?"

She nodded, blushing a little at the memory and loosened her grip on his shirt. "Lucius… There's something you don't know about him. He's… He's a Seer. But not in the sense that Sibyll Trelawney is one. He has visions, and they come true. Do you really think that Voldemort was out to get Potter purely on the word of that crackpot Trelawney? No. There were other Seers that predicted it, and my father was one. In you…"

Draco paused and looked down, focusing his gaze on Hermione's lap. Hermione shifted her weight. She was getting uncomfortable in the awkward pose, but she held on all the same.

"Shortly after I broke the curse on Harry, Lucius saw a vision of the final Great War between Dark and Light. He saw Voldemort, but in a different form. I can only assume now that this is Tom. He also saw you. You, who were neither Dark nor Light, yet possessed great capabilities in each. You came to end the prejudice in the Dark and the absolutism in the Light. You united the two sides, combining the power of the Dark and the morals of the Light, until there was no longer such thing as sides, and you came to rule them all. Voldemort saw this as a possible advantage. He, of course, assumed that he would be able to control you, to make you his own. Tom on the other hand…" 

Hermione snorted. "That's ridiculous. That's one of the most ridiculous, far-fetched, overly dramatic things I've ever heard. Surely no one took him seriously."

The three men stared at her, as if they couldn't understand her disbelief.

"Look, it makes no sense anyway. What makes the Dark Arts bad _is_ their power. The Dark Arts give men powers that only gods should possess, and that does nothing but conflict with morals. How would you possibly have the powers and still the morals?"

Draco frowned. "I didn't say anything about eliminating evil. All I'm saying is that the power would be tempered by… well… conscience."

Hermione rolled her eyes and gently slid her chair back, pulling away from Draco and standing up.

"Look, this is ridiculous. Let's get out of here before Tom comes breaking the door down and try to figure out how to stop him from being such an imbecile… or just how to kill him."

After adding the last part under her breath, she turned, walked briskly towards the door, and paused. "Draco…"

She turned around and found him watching her expectantly. "What happened to your father? Is he working for Tom?"

Draco frowned and glanced at the floor. "I haven't seen my father in years, Hermione."

She watched him, questioningly, but he failed to elaborate. With a shrug, she turned back to the door. Harry joined her.

"Shall we go, then?"

"Where?" 

Hermione glanced between Harry and Ron, reflecting the latter's questioning stare. Harry smiled. 

"Why, the only place we can go. The safest place we could be. We're going back to Hogwarts."

Draco rolled his eyes in a pretense of irritation, but stepped forward just the same, taking Hermione's hand in his. She looked up at him with wide, questioning eyes. Harry raised his eyebrows and Ron grinned.

"Hermione, if I know what love is, it is because of you." 

She blushed and rolled her eyes in an attempt to hide her appreciative smile. After a quick squeeze, she withdrew her hand from his, waved her wand, and with a small "pop", she was gone. Draco sighed and Ron and Harry gave appreciative laughter. Draco turned to face them.

"She's really insufferable, you know? I don't know how you two put up with her for so long. Spectacularly awful. Just bothers the hell out of me, that girl does."

Ron smiled, took a deep breath, and Apparated after her, and Harry was soon to follow. With a deep sigh, Draco turned around, took one last look at the Minister's desk, and raised his wand.

He was going back to Hogwarts, the closest he'd ever gotten to truly having a home. He was going back with the love of his life. There was going to be bloodshed, and probably more dark magic than he'd ever seen, but this time…

This time Draco was on the right side.

"You're searching, Joe, for things that don't exist; I mean beginnings. Ends and beginnings -- there are no such things. There are only middles."

Robert Frost

****

Credit for the quote "if I know what love is, it is because of you." belongs to Herman Hesse.

I have considered many ways in which this story could continue, through different fics. I have perused the option of a companion fic detailing Ginny's descent into darkness. I've thought about focusing on Draco during Hermione's ten year absence, to better explain how he ended up on the side of good (although, in a rosy sweet view, I'm sure you could blame love itself). I've of course considered a simple follow up to this story, detailing the fight against Tom and Ginny.

But at the moment, the saga will end here. Please feel free to contact me (email, IM, or through review). Thank you so much for reading.


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